


That Which Defines Us

by ActuallyGirl



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Crime Fighting, Gen, Humor, Identity, It's hard to relate to others when everyone else is so sloooow, Let's solve crime together in the 70s!, M/M, Mystery, Peter being annoyingly awesome, Poor Hank only wants to do science, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyGirl/pseuds/ActuallyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xavier isn't exactly thrilled when Peter Maximoff calls to ask the professor to bail him out of jail, but he agrees to help. The circumstances of Peters arrest were suspicious and Xavier fears the worst - someone is targeting kids with physical mutations. If Erik finds out all hell will break loose. </p><p>An excuse to force Peter on Charles and Hank, by having them solve a mystery together! Mostly I just wanted to write about how Peter relates to others and how he might be slightly annoying to be around, even when he's being totally awesome.</p><p>Implied (perhaps future) Charles/Erik, Past DOFP.  Characters introduced as story progresses. Using Magda Eisenharts back-story from the comics as Peters mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Out

For many years the sound of a phone had been a rare occurrence at Xaviers, so when the first signal rang loudly and unexpectedly through the empty halls it startled the young professor.

"Hank?" Xavier called half-heartedly while staring at the black plastic object on his desk as if he had no idéa what to do with it. He wasn't in the mood for talking to anybody, not yet. He wasn't ready. But who would call here? He eyed the phone, almost angry at the dead object for not allowing him to telepathically pull the information from its' wiring. Tentatively he picked it up on the third signal, putting the receiver to his ear with a mixed feeling of hope and dread.

"Oh my god FINALLY did you have to INVENT the phone before picking it up?"

Xavier didn't immediately recognize the voice as it was distorted by a poor connection but there was no mistaking the speed of which the man on the other end fired words into the telephone.

"Peter?" he said in disbelief.

"Yeah, listen I need you to bail me out" the silver haired youth continued as if Xavier had said nothing "Fast. Or like, fast by your standards anyway"

"I need to what?"

"Bail. Me. Out" Peter empathized every words while sighing, which shouldn't even be humanly possible "With that big house house and fancy accent of yours I figure you can afford it"

"I understood you" Xavier snapped "I just don't see why getting you out of whatever mess you made is any of my concern"

"Oh. Because you owe me like crazy?" It wasn't spoken as a question "After what I did for you and your boyfriend you could at least do me a solid"

"Eric is not..."

"Yeah, I don't care Prof, free love and whatever but seriously though come get me. Come bail me out. It's just a misdemeanor, it won't even cost you that much. We're talking like 900 bucks. Come on, be cool." as an afterthought he added "Please?"

Xavier sighed and rubbed his eyes, he felt a headache coming on but there was some real urgency in Peters voice and whatever part of him had ever treasured the thought of teaching kids were responding to it.

"Peter, call your mother, I'm sure..."

"Oh no, not an option" Peter interrupted almost instantly "Don't you watch any cop shows? You get ONE phone call. This is my one call. There's no other calls"

"Give me her number and I'll make the call" Xavier said, reaching for a pen.

"No way. If you don't come get me I'll just bust out"

"Why haven't you already?" Xavier asked, suddenly curious "With your talents I wouldn't think the police could hold you?"

"They can't" Peter admitted and lowered his voice and spoke, if possible, even faster "But considering RECENT EVENTS and that these people have my home address I'm not real keen on letting them know that"

Xavier understood. Peter had been showing off his powers to a world who would never believe a man could run faster than the eye could see, but after a base ball court walled the white house in on national TV the world believed. Things had changed forever and the people had to change with it, which meant a kid who could barely stay still long enough to blink was willing to sit in a tiny cell to protect his family. Peter was annoying, but not stupid.

"Professor? Come get me" A final plea as someone behind him was shouting that the time was up.

"Alright Peter, I'm on my way" Xavier sighed "If at all possible, try not to do anything reckless and stupid for the coming hours"

"Hours?" Peter whined and the last thing the professor heard before the call cut off was "Just take the jet!"

Xavier hung up and acknowledged Hank, who was standing in the doorway of the study on a polite enough distance not to be eavesdropping.

"What was that all about?" the tall man asked as he slipped into the room "Can't remember the last time I heard the phone ring"

"Get the car, Hank" Xavier ordered softly "We're going to get Peter Maximoff out of jail"

The scientist snorted in disbelief and when he realized Xavier wasn't joking he asked "For real? Why?"

"Because Eric made a mess of… of the WORLD, Hank" Xavier said bitterly while maneuvering his wheelchair around the desk "And I guess I'm growing a bit soft. Come on now, quick as you like"

* * *

It was a miracle that Peter was still in one piece when they finally got to the police station. From the look of him he might vibrare his atoms loose from all of the pent up energy he was fighting to conceal. With nothing to do, nothing to distract him and having to move at regular speed not to alert the police to what he was, Peter had been in hell for five hours, which to him felt more like fifty. At this point the officers though he was some sort of tweaker coming down from a weird high since he was incredibly fidgety and would not stop talking.

When Hank saw him being led down the police stations long hallway he had to turn away not to laugh. Peter looked like someone who thought extremely hard about walking normally, to the point where it didn't look natural at all, more like he was a puppet with strings being pulled rather unconvincingly.

"You stay out of trouble now young man, you hear?" the heavy set officer said as he undid Peters handcuffs incredibly slowly "We've got our eye on you"

"Uh-huh. Yeah" Peter replied "Could you hurry up maybe?"

The officer looked tired as he ushered the young man up to a window where he could retrieve his belongings and sign a couple of release forms.

"Quite a handful this one" the officer addressed Charles, who was watching Peter scribbling his name with a shaky hand "You his brother?"

"No" Charles offered no further explanation and the officer didn't press on.

"Alright then" The officer collected the papers and handed Peter a note that he shoved into the pocket of his college jacket without even looking at it "You'll be summoned to court in a couple of weeks. If you don't show up you might be facing a far more severe..:"

"Yeah yeah I know all this" Peter interrupted.

"I'm sure you do" the man looked almost as bored as Peter did, and he finally waved the silver haired teen away "Off you go then"

It took Peter every last drop of self restraint not to run right out the door. As soon as they were through them and out of sight from the cameras monitoring the entrance Peter was gone. Both Charles and Hank turned their head in the direction of the sharp gust of wind that leaft parasols from an outdoor diner scattered in his wake.

"Well, I guess…" Hank started and then jumped almost a feet when the teen materialized behind him again, the last remains of a hot dog in his hand.

"Man that was a real bummer!" he exclaimed, the food disappearing at an alarming rate "Five HOURS without anything to eat! That can't be legal"

"Did you just steal that?" Hank pointed to the thin air where the hotdog was half a second ago "After we got you out of jail literally less than a minute ago?"

"Don't be such a square" Peter smiled, giving the taller man a friendly pat on the shoulder "It's not like they're going to get me twice in one day"

"Peter, how exactly did they get you the first time?" Xavier asked, keeping his tone sharp and his mind focused on getting the young man to settle down a bit.

"Wasn't running away" the teen shrugged while opening a soda that seemed to just have materialized in his hand "It's not hard to catch something that isn't trying to get away, you know"

"And why didn't you run?" the professor pressed on.

"Because I hadn't done anything, Prof. They just grabbed me, you know?" Peter said while shoving his now empty hands into his pockets, speaking rapidly "When I realized they were coming for me there was no way they weren't going to see me run and there were cameras everywhere and I thought they already got my image on there, so I should maybe just get caught. So yeah, I didn't run. I know you don't believe me but I for real hadn't done anything this time"

"I believe you" Xavier said, surprising both Peter and Hank.

"Did you do the brain thing or what?" the teen asked.

"No, I didn't 'do the brain thing'" Charles smiled up at him, trying to be patient "I never do that uninvited, unless it's absolutely necessary. I believe you without reading your mind"

"That's… wow" Peter seemed uncertain of what to do with his hands, so he extended one to the professor, and Xavier took it "Thanks for bailing me out. And you know, not assuming I'm lying. That was really cool of you"

"Don't mention it" Charles smiled.

"Good seeing you again, Hank. Catch you later!" And with that, he was gone faster than they could blink.

"Come Hank, let's go empty a coffee shop. I need every drop after having to handle that" Charles sighed while rubbing his eyes "I am going to have such a headache"

"I don't get it through" the tall man mused as they started down the sidewalk, heading for the closes cafe "If he didn't do anything, why did they take him in?"

"There are several valid explanations, but I fear the correct one might be rather unpleasant" Charles looked over his shoulder to be able to meet his friends eyes "Not all the people in uniform in there where police, Hank. Something's going on"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered an issue of a pretty recent Avengers-title (Can't remember which one Pietro is currently on since I'm deep, deeeeep in the swamp that is catching up with X-Force ATM) where it was mentioned that Pietro never calls anyone because he hates waiting for those signals to go through. I justed loved that and wanted to do something with it for movieverse-Peter. The story kinda formed around him needing a reason to call the professor, and I thought Peter calling this guy he kinda doesn't know to get him to bail him out of jail was a fun premise. Then I thought "Hey, why is he in jail?" and here we are, detective-story! This is intended as a five part thing!


	2. Breaking the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter touch all of Hanks sensitive science-stuff and the professor get's a feeling that something really bad is about to happen.

Hank McCoy would probably not have chosen a solitary life, but he wasn't protesting the one forced upon him. In the early days, as their few students vanished and left their halls empty, he'd missed the sounds of life in the mansion. When some of the teachers got drafted the house fell even quieter. Finally that heavy silence drove the rest of the staff away.

Everyone but Hank, who couldn't bear the thought of leaving Charles Xavier to haunt the halls alone. Besides, there was no other place for him to go. He was declared unfit for duty by the government and he hadn't bothered to correct them on that particular point. He didn't want to work for the CIA and no family was waiting for him.

"This is it," Hank smiled, and it wasn't a sad smile, but nor was it happy. "You and me. This house. Our fortress of solitude."

"You're still young, Hank," said a slightly drunk Charles (he was always 'Charles' to Hank when he'd been drinking). "You should go live your life, away from here. Go find your place in the world, fall in love, live! You're brilliant and you're wasting your talents cooped up here."

"The same could be said for you," Hank muttered into his brandy.

"Bah," Charles scoffed, glazed-over eyes staring into space as he talked. "I followed my dream and it ended where it started. I gave my heart away and it was returned to me broken. I might not be old but I have lived my life."

"That's not true," Hank protested. "There is still so much we could do, we could go and look for . . ."

"Stop, Hank, please." The other man shook his head as if the mere thought pained him. "You are welcome to search for her if you like, but I won't go. Erik might be . . . You should go, though. I don't think he'd harm you."

"I'm not leaving, Charles."

There was a slight snarl in his voice which he hadn't intended to use. He was just so tired of these discussions.

"I could make you leave," Charles said softly, emptying his glass and immediately pouring another drink.

"You 'could have made' me leave," Hank corrected.

The two men stared at each other in silence across the dusk of Charles' poorly-lit study. Hank's eyes shone unnaturally in the dim light. Even though he was in human form there was no concealing the beast within. Not fully. The professor considered attempting to reach out with his mind to touch upon the thoughts behind those eyes but he was too scared of both failure and success to even try.

They drank in silence.

* * *

Though Hank McCoy had never sought out loneliness he'd embraced it when it had found him. It gave him time to concentrate on his work and focus on creating something that would pull the professor out of his misery. So far every attempt had failed. He became so accustomed to the silence that he forgot how easily breakable it is.

"What's shakin', Big Blue?"

The sight of Peter casually leaning on his desk, where absolutely no one had been leaning a second ago, startled Hank enough to fall backwards of his chair, knocking several vials containing hours of hard work of the table in the process. His animal instinct kicked in just as he was about to become an embarrassing heap on the floor. Instead he did an improvised backflip and landed back on his feet, unintentionally baring his teeth at the intruder who was holding the vials which he of course caught in mid-air with no difficulty at all.

"Whoa there, nice moves but you better be careful with these. They look important. Are they?" Peter fired a barrage of questions at Hank without giving him any chance to reply. "What are they anyway? Is this pee? Ew! Please don't tell me I'm holding someone's pee. Whose is it? What are you doing with it?"

"It's not pee!" Hank growled "It's dichromate, which is toxic so put it down. GENTLY."

"I prefer it to be toxic to it being someone's pee," the teen muttered as he carefully placed the vials back on Hanks workstation.

"How did you get in here?!" Hank realized he was basically shouting.

"Oh, I knocked and then I waited but no-one came so I kinda just let myself in." With his thumb, Peter indicated the general direction of the main entrance.

"Of course the front door was locked, which I think is a bit rude because if you're not going to answer it you could at least leave it open but I found an unlocked window so, no worries! Then I kinda just looked around for a bit, found this weird-looking door to this Star Trek-cellar, and then I found you! Which is great because you're the guy I came to see! Is this a real human heart? Why do you have these? Do you EAT them? Is that part of your Beast-thing?"

"Don't call me that and OF COURSE I don't!"

Hank tried to regain his disposition but is was incredibly hard when the teen was zipping around his lab, seemingly determined to touch EVERYTHING.

"What on earth do you want with me?"

"I need help from a science geek and I thought who better than my old pal Hank?" Peter gave him a wide smile from across the room, where he was currently flipping through medical books.

"We've met three times."

"I'm counting busting someone out of maximum security prison together as a bonding experience of a value equal or higher to at least five times. Also," he added as an afterthought, "you've met my mom, which also adds an extra point to the side of familiarity."

"I didn't talk to her. She only offered to pay us off not to arrest you."

"Yeah, she's great." Peter shifted on the chair he was now casually spread out over. "So, can you help me with a science thing? It's important. Also you're already kinda involved, you and the professor."

"I'll consider it if you sit still long enough to explain it to me and stop touching all my stuff," Hank snarled.

"Alright, fine. I'll be good."

Peter straightened himself in his seat. Hank finally felt like he regained some control over the situation and therefore remained standing. He crossed his arms and leaned back at his desk, hoping to look at least somewhat like an authority figure.

"What did you mean by us being 'involved'?" He started. "What did you do this time?"

"Same thing as last time; nothing!" Peter spread his hands innocently. "It's the same situation, really. When they arrested me they didn't actually tell me what for and I asked like a million times."

"Probably literally a million," Hank muttered. Peter continued if he hadn't heard him.

"When they first brought me in they told me they wanted to do a drug test and I kinda didn't want to cause more problems at that point, so I agreed. As I'm sure you're familiar with since you usually drug test people by having them pee in cups."

"That's still dichromate."

"But they didn't. They drew some of my blood. Told me it was standard procedure but it's not. I mean sure it happens but it requires special equipment and medically trained personnel, it's costly compared to a swab or the pee-thing. Cops don't do that unless there's like this super-urgent case and misdemeanors aren't considered urgent usually."

Peter made an effort not to speed through his story but the words still kind of melted together at the end.

"I'm surprised you know this much about police procedure."

"Cop-shows and crime novels," Peter shrugged. "It's like a religion at our house."

"You haven't told me what you need from me," Hank pointed out.

"I need you to test my blood and see if it's . . . weird." Peter's dark eyes were suddenly very serious. "Because I think they were checking to see if I was a mutant."

Hank didn't hesitate before responding. "I think we need to go tell the professor."

"So you'll help?"

"Of course, Peter." Hank answered as he strode out the door to find Charles. "It's what we do here."

* * *

 

"This is what I was afraid of," Charles Xavier muttered, more to himself than the two men seated in the seldom-used visitors chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

"What's that?"

Even though Peter was sitting down, he seemed to be in constant motion. His feet tapped impossibly fast against the floor and Hank was thankful for the heavy carpet absorbing the sound of it.

"Do you think it's what you mentioned outside of the coffee shop?" Hank asked and the professor nodded.

"What?" Peter looked between the other two as if he was watching an unusually fast-paced game of Ping-Pong.

"It would certainly seem like it . . ."

"Seem like what?"

"I hoped we would have more time . . ."

"For what?"

"but I've been expecting something like this since Washington."

"What have you've been expecting?"

Charles ignored Peter's constant interruptions until he was finished talking. At that point Peter was on his feet, leaning his hands on the armrests of the professor's wheelchair so they were face to face.

"Seriously, Prof, you need to tell me."

"I will. As soon as you sit down," Charles replied calmly in a tone of voice that indicated there was no room for debate.

Peter lingered for a second, as his first response to any type of authority figure usually was to do the exact opposite of what they asked. But then he materialized back in his seat as if he'd never left it.

"I think you're correct in your assumption that they wanted your blood to quickly be able to determine if you were a mutant or not," Charles started.

"But why wou . . ." Peter began but Charles silenced him with a gesture and a stern look.

"Don't interrupt. The important question right now isn't 'why', but 'who'. Who are they and how are they picking their targets? Has your hair always been grey, Peter?"

"Yeah, I used to hate it. Now it's kinda my thing," the youth replied while self-consciously running a hand through the silvery mess. "Why?"

"My theory is that they're targeting people with visible mutations that set them apart from others. Your hair, for example, or people with oddly coloured eyes or fingers that seem too long. The small differences."

"Why not go for the big differences?"

"Because those with the big differences hide," Hank replied solemnly and Charles nodded in agreement.

"Alright, alright, I get what you're saying." Peter was suddenly on his feet, an excited grin spreading across his face. "So how do we catch these guys?"

"Catch them?" Hank repeated.

"Yeah, come on, it's what we're supposed to do, right?" When he didn't immediately get a reaction of approval he added, "Protect the kids from whatever this is? Mutant kids? It's the right thing!"

"It's not that easy, Peter . . ." Hank started but Charles interrupted him.

"Actually, I think it is." The professor was staring blankly into space, into that distant ideal world of his that he had once thought was lost. "We are supposed to protect the kids. Or at least try. It is the right thing to do."

"Great!" Peter clapped his hands together "When do we start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Hope you like it because my web-adds are going to be weeeeird after all the Googeling I did on drug testing practices in the 70s (not to mention all the searches for "drug possession+average bail" for the last one)! 
> 
> Big thanks for the reviews and kudos! I'm pretty new to this place so I was kinda nervous about posting :)
> 
> Next: Cop-show sounding lingo! Stake-outs! Peter annoying Hank EVEN MORE!


	3. Conversations

They started, as expected, with Cerebro.

To his credit, Hank tried to trick Peter into not coming with them into the sublevels of the mansion, but to no avail. Short of having Charles shut down his motor functions, something the man would never do (unless it was an emergency), there was no stopping the teen from zipping past them at every opened door, which concerned Hank. It had been ages since the professor used the machine, and he usually required peace and quiet. Charles could sense Hank's thoughts and sent a soothing nudge into his mind, making the tall man relax a bit.

As the professor wheeled himself into the narrow suspended bridge that led up to Cerebro's control systems, Peter was already standing in the middle of the platform, gaping at the huge construction.

"Don't touch anything!" Hank, who had followed close behind Charles, called.

"This is really . . ." For once, Peter didn't seem to be able to find the right word.

"Thank you," the professor replied, wheeling past him to settle himself in front of the console. "Hank built it."

"Really?"

Hank actually felt a touch of pride at Peter's marveled expression but it quickly vanished as the youth added, "You do NOT get out much, do you?"

Before Hank could retort the professor spoke up as he eased the machine's attached helmet on to his head.

"Peter, you are welcome to stay but this is a delicate procedure. I need you to remain quiet and very still. If at all possible, try to calm your thoughts."

"Calm my . . ."

"Thoughts, yes, if possible. Your mind keeps racing by my standards, and it's quite distracting."

"Thought you said you didn't . . ."

"I don't," the professor answered before Peter could formulate the question about entering minds without consent.

"But sometimes I overhear things, especially when using Cerebro. Having you in a room is like having a Formula One race track right outside your bedroom window. So please, if possible, try not to think too much."

"Usually not a problem, Prof," Peter grinned.

"I can imagine," Hank muttered.

"Quiet, please, both of you," the professor urged as he turned the knobs on Cerebro's control panel, causing light to turn on.

The air filled with the hum of electricity and telepathy as the room sank away in front of their eyes. Suddenly they were suspended in nothingness, a vastness of dark, empty space before a world map lit up in front of them. Red glowing dots started to appear all over it, in every country, hundreds, thousands of tiny specks of light.

"These are the mutants of the world," Charles said and his voice sounded like it came from everywhere at once, echoed inside Cerebro as well as in their minds.

"Every light here represents a person with an active x-gene."

Hank turned to see Peter trying to take the whole thing in, as if he was attempting to count the number of lights. The youth caught Hank's eye and mouthed 'Wow!' at the taller man, who gave a slight smile in return.

Hank had been through this before. Every time the professor had someone new with him inside Cerebro he would always do the same little demonstration, showing them the mutant population of the world before he'd go on to search for whatever he was searching for. Hank had never asked about it, but he thought it might be to show other mutants, who had often grown up believing they were completely alone, that they were, in fact, not.

It had certainly seemed to have had that effect on Peter. The young man's eyes glistened in the soft red light and he looked almost if he was about to tear up. The professor lingered longer than he had to on those many, tiny red dots, and Hank thought he saw something similar in Charles eyes as well. The Professor looked at the small red embers as if he had never seen them before. Then he shook his head ever so slightly and set to the task at hand.

It took them about an hour to sweep the areas they thought might be of interest, but found nothing. Charles was annoyed by the end of it. He was woefully out of practice and Cerebro wasn't designed to track humans as easily as it tracked mutants. Since they didn't know specifically what they were looking for he had to manually go from mind to mind, listening in and seeing if he could find something that indicated some secret registration of mutants. With a sigh, he removed his helmet and the room materialized itself around them again.

"This is pointless," he said while trying to smooth out his hair. "There are simply too many minds and too little to go on. We have to go about this differently."

"Findthenexttarget."

"What?" Hank and the professor asked in unison.

Peter had been quiet for so long now that all his pent up energy made it hard for him not to speak too fast for the other two men to understand him.

"If we can't find the people who're doing this, we should try to find their next target."

The teen had to concentrate not to speed through the words.

"Victim-profiling, you know. Based on what we know about their targets, we stake out the next possible ones and wait for them to make their move."

"That's actually not a bad idea, Peter," Charles admitted and if Peter noticed the tone of surprise in the professor's voice he chose not to comment on it.

"There's not that many active mutants around here, so finding one who fits what we believe to be their specifications might not be that hard. If we use Peter as the starting point it might give us a good place to begin. If they've already targeted you, they might have targeted other mutants in your area as well. Anyone come to mind?"

"My twin sister."

"There's  _TWO_  of you?"

Charles couldn't help but smile at Hank's genuinely horrified expression. Peter didn't pick up on it, or chose to ignore it, and simply continued.

"Yeah. But she's in Chicago and she looks normal."

"You might want to warn her anyway. Just in case," Charles suggested.

"Nah, she'll be fine," Peter waved the concern away. "She's pretty bad ass."

"Anybody else?"

"There's a kid in my school with blue hair. That seems to be a mutant-thing, right? Don't know his name though. Jay-something. "

"It's a place to start, at least."

The professor smiled. He tried desperately not to admit to himself how much he'd missed this.

* * *

As the professor took it upon himself to catalog all active mutants in the general area with the help of Cerebro, Peter confessed to not being able to stand around idly another hour.

"Besides, I'm starving," the teen added as he and Hank left the professor to his work.

"You seem to eat a lot. Not that I actually ever see it but I smell different foods on you from time to time. I thought about it a lot when we were in Washington. Is it part of your mutation?"

"You SMELL me? That might be more an invasion of privacy than the professor's mind . . ." He wiggled his fingers in the air." . . . thing"

"Not by choice. I can't help it."

Hank gave Peter an annoyed look as the teen pulled the collar of his jacket up to his face to smell it.

"I didn't mean it like that. Heightened senses is part of my mutation, they're stronger if I'm more . . ."

"Beastly?" Peter offered helpfully.

" . . . but they're always there. Heightened hearing, better sense of smell…"

"But you still wear those things" Peter indicated Hanks big glasses.

"I still need these," the taller man replied while self-consciously pushing them up, setting them at the base of his nose.

"No beast-sight then?"

"Not a 20/20 one, at least," Hank replied as he pressed the elevator button.

Peter zipped away and presumably ran the entire length of the sub level before returning to almost the exact position he'd been standing in two seconds earlier.

"Aw man, don't this place have stairs?" he complained "This is so slow."

"We try to minimize the amount of stairs in the building."

"Oh, right. Makes sense. Still slow though. So slow. Slooooow."

As the elevator doors pinged open Peter was instantly waiting inside, base level floor button already pushed. Hank gave the teen a look before he stepped in. He shouldn't ask. It was so draining to be around Peter, but still. His powerset was something unique, and he was so comfortable with them, which was probably while they all got into this mess in the first place. However, he really shouldn't ask. There was no point. He really, really shouldn't.

"Peter, I have a request," Hank cursed the curiosity of his scientific mind. What was it that was supposed to do with the cat again?

"Shoot," the silver-haired man replied, leaning casually against the wall. "Is it another break in? I can totally do another one of those."

"No, no, nothing like that. This is more of a . . . personal thing" Hank was trying to find the right words to not make it sound like something that would bore Peter to death.

"You're quite fascinating and I'd like to ask if you . . ."

"Oh," Peter interrupted, suddenly straightening up and giving Hank an appreciative look as if he'd never really seen him before. "Let me just stop you there. I don't play for that team. Sorry."

"What?"

"You know. You know!" When he repeated the words a second time he tilted his head and dragged out all of the vowels "Good for you though! Very modern!"

"Wha . . . oh! No!" It took a couple of seconds for Hank to connect the dots but when he did he felt himself turning bright red. "Stop jumping to conclusions!"

"I don't jump to them. I carefully assess the provided information and make an educated evaluation."

Peter was suddenly behind Hank, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"You're just not keeping up!"

"That's what I wanted to ask about," Hank pushed his glasses up, avoiding eye contact as Peter appeared in front of him again. "Your body seems to have perfectly adapted itself to your mutation. It's very rare, especially in people as young as you."

"You can't be that much older than me, you just act like a senior citizen."

"And you act like a punk," Hank snapped and got a short, heartfelt laugh as a reply.

He relaxed a bit and the elevator doors opened towards the impressive main hall of the Xavier mansion. Hank started explaining while heading towards the kitchen, not really checking if Peter was following him or not.

"I used to do these studies with some of the students and other teachers, back when this was a school," he started. "Logging their experiences of when their powers emerged and running some test to see how their mutations changed them, physically. My theory is that we should be able to find similarities between different types of mutants and that these findings could help kids when their x-gene triggers. I'd like to run similar tests on you. And before you ask no, it won't hurt and yes, you're probably going to be bored out of your mind because it takes around two hours."

When Hank looked around he was surprised to find Peter jumped up on the counter in the kitchen, eyeing him with interest. The doctor had assumed the restless teen would have just run out mid-sentence. Instead he responded with a shrug and a simple 'I'll do it'.

"Really?"

"I like you Hank, so sure, I'll do it. Besides we should look out for the other mutant kids, you know?"

"Thank you."

Peter simply grinned and vanished. Hank decided to make coffee, excited about the prospect of something new to study. It had been a long time since they had known a new type of mutant. Hank was already thinking up names for the category, his brain almost giddily running over the different type of test he'd need to set up. He had made it as far as to the coffee machine at the other end of the kitchen when Peter appeared next to him.

"I meant I like you as a  _friend_  just so there's no . . ."

"OH MY GOD, you don't have to clarify that!" Hank growled and Peter put his hands up defensively.

"Ok, ok, duly noted!" he said before running off again, leaving a pile of turned-over chairs in his wake.

"Exhausting person," Hank mumbled to himself, but he couldn't help but smile at his new scientific venture.

* * *

At the age of 15, Jasper had already deduced that his mutation was going to kill him. Of course, at the time, he didn't know what a mutation was. It wasn't until one year later that helmet-wearing terrorist on the news said the word that Jasper understood it probably applied to him, that he was one of them.

That night he looked himself in the mirror and said, 'I'm a mutant'.

No-one called him a liar, so he accepted it as truth. He considered telling his parents, but they liked to avoid speaking to him as much as possible, counting down the days until they hoped he'd go off to college and prayed their marriage would last that long. Jasper himself was not so sure it would happen. Always an egghead, always a target, he'd had his heart set on higher education. He wanted to be one of those underdog success-stories that the papers wrote about. He wanted to come back to his school reunion ten years later and be the most successful guy there.

How impossible those dreams seemed now, how vain and shallow.

Of course he wasn't going to make it through high school, the Poindexter with blue hair who had to call out everyone's lies was destined to die in the mud behind the gym. He'd been foolish to think otherwise, he concluded as he tried to wipe the taste of wet earth from his lips.

"Say that again," Jock Number Two, the easily flustered one called 'Brian' threatened as he pulled Jasper back up by the collar of his shirt. "Say that again, you little shit!"

"I'd rather not."

No one had punched him yet, just pushed him, but he assumed it was coming.

"Jessica would never be unfaithful to me! We love each other!"

And there it was, a statement presented as truth. Jasper couldn't stop it, it was as if there was someone else inside of him, stealing his voice and forcefully speaking that hated word.

"Lying."

"There is no way a worthless piece of shit like you could know anything about us! She loves me!"

"Lying."

"You take that back you freak of I will kill you!"

"Lying."

Well, that was a relief at least. He wasn't going to die today. Just get one hell of a beating. As the jock pulled back his arm to strike, Jasper had a second to worry about how his mom would react to him coming home with broken glasses again. But the punch he expected never came. Instead Brian toppled over as if pushed by thin air and the same thing simultaneously seemed to happen to his friends. Jasper blinked in confusion for a moment, before he took his chance and ran.

* * *

"You can't interfere like that! We're just supposed to observe," Hank scolded Peter, who was absent-mindedly picking at his nails, his back comfortably rested against the trunk of a maple like he's been there with Hank in the tree line the whole time.

"Come on, they would have killed the kid! And then we would have to have found a new kid. And that would mean waiting around for the professor for half a lifetime again and I can't take that, you know? I just pushed them around a bit. No biggie. Not like anyone saw anyway."

"You can't know that for certain."

"Totally can. Scouted the area before I went in. There's no one lurking around this kid but us."

Peter grinned at him and while Hank felt he should argue, he didn't. The situation behind the gym hit a little bit too close to home for the tall man to be wholly angry at Peter for stepping in. He'd been pushed in his fair share of mud in his day.

"Guess we were being a little bit optimistic thinking they would stake out the school," Hank sighed as he got to his feet, brushing away the remnants of the underbrush that clung to his clothes.

"Yeah, I thought so too," Peter mused. "I mean, they wouldn't nab him at school, right? Way too many people. Grabbing him on the way home would be much more efficient. Hey, you get the feeling the professor might just have sent us on a snipe hunt to get us out of his hair?"

"Us?!"

Hank was pretty sure he was being sent away with the teen just to make sure Peter didn't do anything characteristically stupid. Like interfere with the person they were supposed to be following.

"He seemed a bit irritable, you know?" Peter continued, oblivious to Hank's tone of voice as they traced their way back to the main road where Hank had parked his car. "Anyway, what now? Hang out at his house? Hope these assholes show up?"

"Pretty much."

"Ugh. This isn't going to be as much fun as I thought it would. Spying on some dude isn't really my idea of a good time."

"I assume you would prefer we rob him blind?" Hank remarked and Peter laughed good-naturedly, slapping the taller man on the shoulder.

"I knew you had a sense of humor underneath all . . . that."

He gestured to Hanks rather plain, buttoned-up appearance.

"I'm not about to take any abuse for my clothes by someone whose style icon seems to be duct-tape," the doctor replied as he unlocked his car.

"Alright, keep an eye on the kid and if he gets taken in on his way home come get me before you follow them. I'll meet you with the car back at his house."

"Yes, sir!" Peter replied with a mock-salute before he disintegrated in a blur of motion, heading after the young mutant whom they thought was the next probable target.

* * *

Jasper took a long detour on his way home, hoping that he wasn't being followed by the three members of the football team that seemed to always have it out for him. Granted, he might just have told one of them his girlfriend was cheating on him, but it wasn't like he'd meant to say anything. If only Brain wouldn't loudly brag about how Jessica would never be with another guy since he was so terrific, life would be so much easier. Jasper hated teen drama and the amount of lying that was involved in it.

"I would never do that to you, you're my best friend!"

"I wouldn't have slept with her if I knew you liked her!"

"I'm not a racist!"

"Of course I'm not a virgin!"

"I lost my homework!"

Lying, lying, lying, lying, lying.

Too many lies to keep track of. Jasper tried not to listen, but it didn't help. Something inside of him picked up on it like there was a compass in his head that didn't need his conscious mind to point out bullshit, and that part of him always needed to expose the truth. He couldn't stop it any more than he could will himself not to blink. It really was a miracle no one had killed him yet.

When he was pretty sure he was safe from anyone who might be following him he slowed his pace as he navigated the back streets of suburbia. He stole an apple from a low-hanging branch of someone's back yard and ate it as he aimlessly wandered around the paved streets. He knew them like the backs of his hands and he maneuvered himself to the ones where the danger of meeting other pedestrians was fairly slim.

He liked walking, he liked being away from people and he knew the longer he stayed out, the likelier it was that he would miss dinner. Nothing brought his parents more joy than when their only child missed dinner. They would never admit how much they hated having him around, how uncomfortable he made them. When he was home, they were afraid to talk. Every conversation became a bland exchange, like something out of a seriously boring and poorly written TV-show.

"Smells delicious, hon!"

"Thanks, love! Pass me your plates please."

"Is that a new sweater, doll?"

"No. No I've had this for years."

"Lying."

"It's an  _expression_ , Jasper."

"Sorry, Mom."

Anything more profound or any mention on each other's days was a minefield, as Jasper might call out a lie in any sentence. Since he had exposed his mother's affair nine months ago during a trip to the grocery store, his parents had become jumpy around him. Jasper had no idea why they were so keen on pretending that everything was fine, that their family was as normal and perfect as could be. They insisted on keeping up this charade for Jasper as well. Pretend-worrying over him when he didn't come home and insist on family dinners even though it scared them to have him in the same room. He assumed they were good people, trying to do the right thing, so he tried to be a good son and keep out of their hair as much as possible.

His thoughts were dark, as expected from a teen in his situation, and he didn't notice the silver-haired kid until they almost collided in an intersection connecting two small alleyways.

"Holy shit!"

Jasper tumbled backwards, falling over ungracefully and landing poorly on the base of his spine.

"Ah, sorry, dude! Totally wasn't watching where I was going. You ok?"

"Nothing broken," Jasper replied, knowing that if he said he was fine that other voice would probably step in to correct him. He was never fine.

Jasper looked up at the other kid, who kept restlessly shifting his weight from leg to leg, as if he was unsure whether or not he should stay put or run away. He was dressed in rather plain clothes for a kid his age, but there was no mistaking the silver hair. Jasper had noticed it years back when he started school, and always admired the other boy for not hiding it, like he always had tried to do with his oddly coloured hair.

"Hey, you're the Maximoff kid."

"One of them," the other teen smirked as he reached down, grabbed Jasper's arm and pulled him to his feet. "There's three of us."

"You used to be a senior at my school. Everyone thinks you went to prison."

Jasper realized he probably shouldn't be talking, but against better judgment he always thought that the Maximoff-kid was kinda cool. He seemed so sure of himself all the time. Jasper envied that.

"I assure you that the reports of my incarceration have been greatly exaggerated."

He said it in an over-the-top, old timey way and Jasper was slightly astonished. Mark Twain-quotes didn't seem to fit with the devil-may-care personality that he'd always assigned the other boy.

"I've just been skipping school for a couple of weeks. Hanging back, you know?" he continued and as an after-thought he reached out his hand.

"I don't know if we've ever really met. Peter."

He shook it after a moment's hesitation.

"Jasper."

"Your parents named you 'Jasper'? Dude. Tough luck."

There was genuine pity in his voice. He wasn't being condescending.

"They're petrologists."

"Yeah? My mom's a bartender but I'm not named Gin Martini."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah. I was almost named Pietro but then some friend of mom's said it was better to stick with the American version. However my sisters got Romanian names though. Huh. Never thought of that before. It's not like their names screams red white and blue apple-pie. What are you doing back here anyway?" Peter asked without pause.

It was almost impossible to keep up with him as he sped through the words. It took the other boy an extra second just to catch up and could reply.

"Just . . . walking." Jasper answered, suddenly mindful of his dirty clothes and probably rather messy appearance.

"What are you doing here? You don't live here" he retorted, mostly to divert Peter's attention so he didn't make the connection between the mud on him and the fact that he was hiding in alleyways.

"Oh, you know. Just walking around."

Jasper could feel the word ascending through his throat. He tried to keep it in, but he had no control over it.

"Lying," he hissed, in the voice that didn't sound like his own.

"Whoa, ok, chill," Peter held up his hands in front of him and then his face changed from surprise into something . . . else. "I was out here, bird-watching."

"Lying," Jasper hissed again as he backed two steps away from Peter.

"Ok, fine, whatever. I was looking for someone."

Not a lie. No auto-response. He needed to get away.

"Good luck with that. I got to head home. My parents will worry. Lying. Damnit! I - I have to go."

When Jasper got stressed he forgot to regulate how he spoke, he forgot to make sure there wasn't some small lie in his own sentences and the other voice didn't discriminate. He had to leave, now.

"Yeah, I got someone waiting for me as well," Peter replied as Jasper backed away, looking like a cornered animal "See you around, Jaz!"

* * *

Peter waited for the other kid to round a corner before he took off. He only made a small detour before looping back to where Hank was waiting in his car, irritably drumming his fingers against the wheel.

"That took way too long. Did you do the exact thing you weren't supposed to do under any circumstances?"

Hank greeted as Peter appeared on the passenger seat, feet already comfortably planted on the dashboard.

"Have you MET me? Of course I did. I also got you coffee."

He handed the steaming paper-cup over to the taller man with a boyish grin. Hank accepted it but he wasn't going to be bribed out of scolding the teen.

"Peter, if someone saw . . ."

"No one saw! I checked the area," the speedster sighed while chewing something Hank hadn't seen him put in his mouth.

"And besides, if they did, that might be a good thing. Maybe they'll speed up their mutant-napping if they think we're like . . . associating, or something"

"Or maybe they think it's too much of a risk and move to another target."

"Then we get to sit outside of their house and argue." Peter replied and added an un-enthusiastic "Yay."

"You need to take this seriously."

"No shit."

Peter turned to face Hank, and for the first time since they met he looked angry, his brown eyes darker than usual.

"They got my blood, Blue. What if they go after my sisters? Or my mom? I need to know who they are, so I know we're safe. So don't tell me I'm not being serious about this. I am. Might just not be your and the professor's kind of serious, that's all."

Peter sucked in his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. Hank watched him pout for a second before he hesitantly replied.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did."

"Alright, I did. And I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

The dark look on Peter's face was replaced by his characteristic smile. The kid did not hold grudges for very long.

"And thanks for the coffee. That was nice of you."

"I'm a nice guy."

"You stole it, didn't you?"

"Right out of a patrol car. Proper stake-out coffee."

A resigned sigh slipped from Hanks lips as he sipped the hot liquid. He hoped whoever took Peter would show up soon, because this was going to become a long night if they didn't.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so with my wast knowledge of mutants I really should have been able to come up with one that fitted the needs of the story: someone with discrete physical mutation, whose power is weak enough not to upset any dynamics in the story and who weren't tied up elsewhere in the marvel movieverse. Turns out it was harder than I thought, and I ended up bringing in an OC. I normally never write OCs but Jasper has been in my head for a while as a mutant with a type of mutation that is an involuntary reflex. If you ever read Saga, I'm pretty sue you can guess where the inspiration for his mutation came from :) However, this is a Peter (and Charles/Hank)- story, so Jasper isn't taking over. He's just here for a purpose.
> 
> Also, I had to Google "Common types of trees in Salem, NY" for this. Turns out google doesn't list trees by those key words, so I just looked at pictures of trees from that area and though i saw a lot of maples, so I hope those are native to that region. My tree-deduction skills are limited at best!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4 - The Company We Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A telepath, a beastman and a speedster walk into a bar...

The next day Jasper saw Peter Maximoff in the hall on his way to first period. Some teacher had the senior student backed up against a locker and was yelling at him about truancy while Peter simply smiled impishly at her. When Jasper passed him the other teen gave him a familiar nod as a greeting and an even wider smile. Jasper returned it with a quick, awkward one of his own before hurrying on. Hallways were not safe places.

Jasper saw Peter again during lunch, and then after school in the parking lot. Every time Jasper caught a glimpse of him the other teen seemed to have been watching him from a distance. If he'd had any social courage whatsoever he might have jokingly confronted Peter and asked if he was following him. He didn't though. He wasn't that self-centered.

* * *

"Nothing' at the school."

Professor Xavier prided himself in not showing any physical reaction to how startled he got when Peter appeared out of thin air in the middle of his up-until-then quiet study.

"I didn't hear you knock."

His piercing blue eyes looked up at the teen and with a sharp nod he indicated the formerly-closed, now ajar, door. Peter looked like he might object, but then promptly shut his mouth, twisted dramatically on the spot and vanished again. A quick series of knockings was heard from the now once-again closed door.

"Come in," the professor called and Peter made a point of opening the door very slowly, entering the room as a stage-actor knowingly walking to his make-believe doom.

"Hello, Peter, what can I do for you?" Charles smiled, putting down the map he was studying and giving the teen his full attention.

"I just came to tell you there were no suspicious incidents at the school today."

"I thought we agreed that the school was an unlikely target for these people."

"Yeah, but I needed to show up anyway or my mom's gonna get in trouble. Thought I might as well keep an eye on the kid. Let me tell you, those secret mutant-blood stealing assholes is, like, the least of his problems. He might get murdered by the football team before they even get to him."

"Ah, to be young again," the professor responded ironically. "Where's Hank?"

"Out by the kids' house, lurking in his car like some shady pervert. If we keep this up, someone gonna notice him."

"The thought has struck me as well," Charles rubbed his temple, a gesture that was now simply a remnant from when he used to get terrible headaches.

"I say we give it one more day, and if we haven't found whoever is doing this by then we have to inform the family of our suspicion and offer what little protection we can. Please deliver that information to Hank when you return to him."

"Yeah. I will. Um… Professor? There's another thing. I need a favour."

Charles felt the unease flooding off of Peter, filling the air and his own mind.

"Are you planning on being arrested again? If so, please know that my funds are not unlimited," Charles intended it as a joke to get the teen at more ease and Peter gave him a crooked smile.

"Giant mansion would beg to differ," He replied, making a grand gesture to include the entire property. "Besides, no-one dresses as sloppily as you if they're not filthy rich. No one who's actually poor would be caught looking like a hobo. Unless they were… you know, actual hobos."

"I would be careful about making fun of a man's clothes when you're about to ask him a favour," the professor smiled and folded his hands on the desk, inviting Peter to sit down. "What can I do for you?"

Peter sat down in the offered chair, but he didn't splay out like he usually did. Instead he rested his elbows on his knees and kept tapping his feet against the thick carpet.

"I...uh… you know my sister, right? My twin?"

"I know you have one. But I have never met her. As I am sure you know."

"Yeah, but ok, so she's been away for a while and I was just wondering if maybe you could… you know, check up on her? Just to make sure she's fine. With everything going on, you know?"

"Can't you simply call her?"

"No. I can't," Peter looked defeated, his dark eyes fixed on the carpet in front of him "If I try to call, it's a wrong number. And it's the same when mom calls. Not even the same wrong number. It's like always different things."

"Are you sure you have the correct…"

"Come on, yeah, I'm sure, Prof. It's kinda part of her power. She doesn't want us to be able to call her, so we can't. She doesn't want us to find her, so we can't. That's just how it is. But maybe if you could use Cerebro you could at least tell if she was in trouble or not. I don't need to know where she is, I respect that she might want some time off and she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself... but mom's worried, you know? And I'm a little bit worried too. She's my sister."

"Of course I'll help, Peter, to the best of my abilities."

If the teen had been closer to him Charles might have reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Cool. That's very cool of you," If Peter was wiping something from underneath his eye he moved too fast for the professor to actually catch it. "Sorry I made fun of your duds."

"It's alright, Peter. I can take it," the professor smiled. "If there's nothing else, go keep Hank company for a while."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss out on all the action of hanging out in a car with a guy that smells like a large cat," Peter grinned.

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

On his way back to the main floor after a brief session in Cerebro, confirming that young Wanda was indeed in no danger, Charles noticed that something smelled funny. He wasn't sure what it was. Something reminiscent of the electrical discharge left behind by a thunder-storm. As the elevator dinged open on the main floor, he recognized the thick scent of electrically charged atoms hanging in the air and it caused his heart to race.

He maintained a composed expression as he wheeled himself into the study, unusually aware of the amount of metal running through the structure of his house and lining his furniture, not to mention his chair. As he entered the room, he stopped and folded his hands in his blanket-covered lap, the image of serenity.

"I'd offer you tea but I'd love for you to tell me which one of us you've come to assassinate this time before I start bringing out the good china," Charles greeted the familiar frame of Erik's back, who was bent down over the maps the professor had previously been where the professor had carefully marked X:es over locations.

"You know," Erik's voice was distorted by the metal helmet, giving it a menacing echo.

"I really don't but my guess would be… Hank? It's a 50/50 shot after all."

Erik spun around on his heel, crushing the map in one hand and holding it in front of him like a sword pointed at Charles head.

"You know about our children being taken off the streets, and yet you do nothing?" he growled. "You are supposed to be their protector but what have you done to help them?"

"I can tell you what I didn't do, Erik. I didn't drop a stadium on the White House on national television to prove some sort of superiority complex, putting every mutant on the planet in immediate danger."

"I didn't put them in any danger they were not already in. I simply gave them a possibility to live like free men and women, not like rats covering underneath the heel of human government. It's us or them, Charles. This proves it!" Once again he shook the map at Charles face. "When will you wake up and realize what reality is like outside of this tiny shut-in universe of yours?"

"A reality you created for us by your actions" Charles answered coldly "And perhaps I aided in with my inaction"

"Oh please, not taking action is what you do best. If you had your naive way we'd all sit in an interspecies drum circle of peace and understanding, serenading the sunset!"

"Yes, Erik, because that sounds _LOVELY_ compared to forcing us into yet another war where we pit people against each other simply for being born a certain way. And could you please remove that ridiculous helmet? I can't have a serious shouting match with you while you wear that awful thing. Where did you even get it?"

"Do you think I am incapable of fashioning something out of metal that Shaw was able to make in the first place?" Erik answered from underneath the shadow of the helmet, which was evidently a different one from the one left discarded in the rubble outside of the White House.

"Did you have to make it equally appalling? Could you take it off please? If I wanted to shut you down I would have done so in Washington"

"You must take me for a fool, Charles."

"I do, but not because you refuse to remove that thing. Well, not entirely because of it at least."

Charles pinched the base of his nose, the last sentence spoken with tired mockery. He didn't want to have this argument. Part of him had secretly been hoping that Erik had noticed the disappearances as well. Though he feared what his former-friend might do about it, this gave them a cause to unite their efforts. Charles knew he was being vain, still hoping to turn Erik away from his dark path, but he had missed the other man's company and he wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

"What do you want Erik?" Charles sighed, wheeling himself further into the room.

"I came to ask for your help, but you obviously already have it figured out. You're just too weak to act or simply don't care!" He threw the map at Charles feet, but some of the explosive anger had faded from his voice.

"We have a plan in motion," Charles replied coolly. "We've targeted a person of interest that we believe these people might go after, and we have detail on his whereabouts around the clock. If they come for him, we'll be there."

"Kids are disappearing off the streets, Charles, and you're up in your mansion playing Columbo!" Erik snarled and he looked like he might have said something else, if he hadn't been suddenly interrupted.

"I _love_ that show!" Peter exclaimed where he appeared at Charles side, startling both the men. "Surprised you know about it though. TV doesn't seem like your style."

When Magneto turned to give the youth a stare that would have sent lesser men running, Peter only continued talking.

"I'm basing that entirely on your previous encounter with law enforcement. And you know… the cape. Can't picture people in capes watch a lot of TV. Because then you'd know capes isn't very... trendy. Unless you're a Las Vegas magician. Or like a _REALLY_ over the top super villain. Which might be what you're going for, what do I know?"

Charles couldn't help it. He laughed. He really shouldn't have because Erik was very keen on his pride, but he couldn't help it. The image of the menacing master of magnetism performing parlor tricks on stage was simply too hilarious.

"I am glad this situation amuses you so. The children being taken are probably not that happy about it," Erik tried to line his voice with poison but he realized it came out as a pout.

"So far, as far as I have been able to determine, no one has actually been abducted for a long period of time. Peter, could you hand me the map, please? Thank you."

He smoothed the paper out over his lap as soon as it materialized in his hand.

"Counting Peter, you remember Peter, I assume"

"Not sure we were ever formally introduced, but hey, Peter, got you out of your little underground penthouse to menace the world once more!"

"I remember"

"Counting him we've so far had four abductions in the greater New York area, following a distinct pattern, indicating that they are indeed one group. Do you have additional information that you would like to share, Erik?"

"I know about two of those," Erik admitted, as those dots were what had angered him about the map in the first place.

"They seem to choose targets rather carefully and operate like local law enforcement, trying to attract as little attention as possible to themselves. All the minds I searched…"

"Hang on!"

"... weren't too upset about the encounter and none of them seems to have suspected foul play."

Charles ignored Peter's interruption, which never seemed to discourage the teen from talking.

"Your 'I don't enter minds uninvited'-rule seems to be broken _a lot,_ Prof!"

"A good lesson to learn early in life, kid, is to never trust a telepath," Erik said grimly.

"Yeah, ok, I'm perfectly fine with trusting the word of the guy at the top of FBI's Most Wanted list. You've obviously got it aaalll worked out!"

Peter grinned at Erik and the older man looked as if he might rip the copper wire out from the walls and strangle the teen with them.

"But hey, that speech you held was pretty cool. Scared the shit out of my mom, but still pretty cool."

"Your mother had nothing to fear from me," Erik's voice was a deep, metallic thunder but he didn't sound as angry. "She has borne mutant children, and if she stands by you, she is an ally."

"Oh, so as long as we can breed with them, humans can coexist with us? How very thoughtful of you!"

"Can we not talk about my mom and breeding, please? Also, it sounds really freaking creepy, especially when you've got that thing on. Maybe you should work on being less creepy? Might be good for PR"

"Why are you here?" Erik asked, exasperated. "Have you become a member of Charles' one-man Peace Corps?"

"Helping out as best I can," Peter quipped. "Speaking of which, a weird car with blacked-out windows stopped twice outside of Jasper's house this evening! Hank followed it but it shook him."

"What?" Charles and Erik exclaimed in unison.

"Aw, you two are really cute," Peter smiled and continued. "Anyway, I thought maybe you could extract the image of the car from Hank's mind and get it into my head, and then I can just run a lap around town and see where it went?"

"Where were you when this was going on?" Charles demanded.

"At home, making my little sister dinner," Peter replied, crossing his arms defensively. "I've got a life, you know, and a mom that works odd hours. Someone's gotta look out for Lorna. So where are we on this mind-image-transfer thing?"

"It can be done, but it won't be pleasant for either of us."

"Wow, I hope I never hear a girl say that to me."

* * *

Extracting the image from Hank's head wasn't very difficult under normal circumstances, but the doctor was incredibly angry at finding Erik standing in the main hall of his home. That complicated things, as an image of him almost drowning Erik in a fountain kept slipping to the front of his mind where he was trying to keep the car with the blacked-out windows.

It took Charles longer than expected to be able to get the full image and then project it into Peter's mind. They had tried this once before, to try and get the faces of the people Peter had been arrested by, but the teen hadn't been paying that much attention at the time and the images where fleeting at best. The main issue was that the professor wasn't able to find all the pieces that together would have formed an image, since looking after something in Peter's brain was like trying to listen to bird-song while trapped underneath a speeding train. After two minutes, he came away with such a migraine that he was bedridden for the rest of the day. Naturally, he was quite nervous about entering Peter's mind again. But dropping an image in there was like throwing a paper plane out into a storm. There wasn't much effort to it.

"Wow, trippy!" Peter said when the car had been deposited into the whirlwind of his mind. "Ok, got it, back in while!"

He was out the door before anyone else could blink.

"So, Erik, how about that cup of tea?" Charles asked and Erik almost smiled. Almost. Hank didn't.

* * *

Charles and Erik were half-way through an argument about how very, very wrong the other person was both ideologically and ethically about _everything_ when Peter returned, wet from a sudden downpour outside.

"Found it" he said triumphantly as he entered the kitchen, too fast for either of the other men to see, but not too fast not to leave pools of rainwater all over the floor. "It's outside an apartment building on 7th and Regal. That house is packed though and I didn't see who was driving the car."

"That's alright, Peter. I can search a house of minds quite easily if I'm in close proximity."

"There's nothing in that neighborhood," Hank complained from his sulking position right outside the kitchen door, unwilling to come in but equally unwilling to leave Charles alone with Erik. "If we park a car there we're going to stand out like a sore thumb, especially if they're looking out for suspicious activity."

"Not necessarily," Peter replied with a grin "There's a bar right across the street from the parking lot. If we sit in there, we're just going to look like a rag-tag bunch of patrons striking out. It should be fine. I know the bartender."

"It's a plan, at least" Charles looked over the table at Erik, who hadn't touched his rapidly cooling tea. "Are you coming with us?"

"Better not," Erik replied. "I'm somewhat famous these days"

"Ah. Yes. Of course," Charles couldn't quite hide his disappointment.

* * *

Peter walked into the shady back-alley dive like he owned the place, snapping his fingers in the air before speaking over the small crowd of regulars.

"Barkeep! Three whiskeys, hold the ice."

"Very funny," a thin woman whose accent sang of eastern Europe replied from behind the bar. "Maybe when you grow up, you can be a famous comedian and support your poor elderly mother."

"Dunno what you're talking about, barkeep. My mom's a fox, gonna be eons before she's even close to old."

Peter had paced the length of the room while talking and when he reached the counter, he leaned over it and gave the woman a quick kiss on the cheek. She laughed and snapped at him with the towel she'd been polishing glasses with.

"Lord help me, did I really raise you like this?" she scolded with a smile.

"Nah, you did well. TV and rock music corrupted me," Peter smiled back as he plopped himself down on a chair.

"Speaking of which," he continued motioning the other men forward. "Mom, this is Hank McCoy and Professor Charles Xavier. Guys, this is my mom, Magda Maximoff."

"Yes, I remember you." The warmth faded from the woman's face as he studied her son's two companions. Up close she looked older than her years, her dark hair already turning grey at the temples. Her face had probably been girly once, but age and life had hardened soft curves into sharp lines. It wasn't unbecoming though.

"Should I be worried that my son is hanging out with a professor?" she asked, as she shook Charles outstretched hand. Her skin was hard and dry from years of manual labour.

"Most parents would be delighted," the professor replied with a charming smile.

"Most parents are stupid, Professor Xavier."

She turned her attention to Hank, who looked even more nervous than usual under her scrutinizing dark-brown glare.

"You! You look like a proper young man. You, I like," Magda said with an approving nod.

"You would. He's a doctor," Peter remarked from his sprawled out space at the bar.

"A doctor at your age! How proud you must have made your parents!" Magda exclaimed, then turned to her son to once again swat at him with her towel. "Why can't you be more like this young man?"

"Mom, you don't even know him!"

"No, but I know _you_ well enough."

"Point taken. Mind if we hang out for a bit?"

"Why?" Magda's eyes narrowed and she shifted her attention to Charles, who wasn't paying attention to her but seemed to be staring into space with two fingers on his temple.

"This is a bar. It's what people do here, right? Well, except Ernest over there, who I guess lives here? I've never seen him leave."

With his thumb Peter indicated one of the regulars, a hopelessly depressing middle age man whose face was saggy from years of drinking.

"Leave Ernest alone," his mother hissed. "He had a rough time in the war. Show some respect."

"Alright alright. Sorry, Ernest!"

"What?" The man looked confused, as he had not been paying any attention to the conversation before Peter called his name. The teen didn't elaborate and the veteran swiftly sank back into his own beer-drenched little world of misery.

"You avoided my question. If my _underage_ son want to hangs out with this friends, why would he pick the bar where his mother works?"

"You caught me," Peter leaned back on his chair, both hands in the air in a casual 'I surrender'-gesture. "It's a set-up. I want Hank to be my new dad."

Hank felt the furs on his arms stand on end, a sure sign that he was seconds away from turning blue and beastly out of pure emotional shock. Ha was clamoring for words when the professor suddenly spoke into his and, he assumed, Peter's mind.

"Ninth floor, third window on the right. It's them."

"How'dyouknow?" Peter asked out loud and too fast, but the professor caught it.

"That room is completely dark to me. It's like as if someone's blacked it out on a map," Charles continued the psychic conversation. "I can't read anything from it. This has only happened with other telepaths before. These people might be mutants, or more dangerous than I previously assessed. Peter, don't…"

As he tried to voice his warning, Peter left in a sharp gust of wind and Charles finished out loud.

"...run right in."

* * *

Hank ran out after Peter, but when Charles attempted to follow, his chair wouldn't move. He turned his head to see Ms. Maximoff standing over him, one hand grasping the push handle so hard her knuckles turned white. She leaned down close enough so that Charles could smell the old perfume and fresh beer on her clothes.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice kept low and her accent more prominent now that it was tinged with anger. "I don't care _what_ you are or _what_ you can do. If my boy gets hurt in any way, or put away because of you, I'll make your life hell."

"I have no ill intentions and I wouldn't put Peter in any danger," Charles reassured her, while also pushing the suggestion into her mind, ever so slightly.

His concentration broke when they heard gunfire across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably tell that I think Magda Maximoff is the most BAMF character in the marvel/fox cinematic universe.


	5. The Company We Trust

"Peter!" Magda Maximoff screamed as the remnants of the gunshot echoed across the parking lot.

"Yeah?" Peter raised an eyebrow where he appeared at her side "What's up mom?"

Magda stared at her son in a moment of relief and disbelief before resorting to yelling something, that was obviously a string of curse-words in an eastern european language, in his face.

"I got, like, a third of that. Maybe less" Peter said as she stopped to catch her breath.

"You're unharmed? We heard shots" Charles wheeled himself a little bit closer to Peter, while still staying clear of the enraged Ms. Maximoff.

"Dude, it was like ONE GUN. One gun is not a problem!" Peter smiled and winked at the professor whose facial expression did not encourage the boys good mood.

"Where's Hank?" he asked.

"Ran past him in the stairwell on his way up. There's a dude up there as well by the way. I tied him up. However there's no elevator so I'm gonna have to carry you up there"

"Peter, no! Wait!" The young man stopped short of hoisting the professor out of his chair and over his shoulder in a public parking lot.

"You said there is only one up there?"

"Yeah. Just the one guy"

"The car. Their car"

The professor quickly scanned the parking lot, not finding the familiar vehicle.

"There are more of them. Peter, you have to go to Jaspers house" the professor's voice was suddenly commanding, in control "Get him out. Go. Now. We'll meet you at the mansion"

Peter nodded sternly, called "GonneBeOutForAWhileDon'tWaitUpLoveYouMom!" and disappeared in a blur.

* * *

"Jasper" his mother called from the dining room as he entered the house after yet another long after-school walk "Could you come in here for a moment? There are some people who would like to talk to you"

Jasper paused in the hallway, heart rate increasing. No one ever came to see him. Unless there was someone from the school here again to discuss with his parents how he bullied his fellow students by calling them liars. It had happened once already after he repeatedly called out a teacher's historical factual errors during class. With a tight knot in his stomach he stepped into the living room and was relieved to find two complete strangers seated together with his mom and dad at the table. A man in a suit and a woman in a casual-looking lab coat stared at him as he entered.

"Hello Jasper" the unfamiliar woman smiled at him.

"Hello" he answered quietly, mentally taking note that he was probably supposed to find her attractive since she was almost movie-star pretty and wore a low-cut blouse underneath the open lab coat. He didn't though. Jasper hated that about himself.

"Son, are you aware of the new recreational drug flooding your school?" the unfamiliar man asked, his voice ripe with authority.

"No" Jasper answered truthfully, somewhat taken aback by the blunt question.

"Uh-huh. So your recent run-ins with a certain Mr. Maximoff doesn't have anything to do with it then?"

"What? No. I don't even know him" Jasper crossed his arms over his chest defensively and tried to catch his mother's eyes. She simply shook her head and wore that same pretend-concerned face that she always faked around him.

"Seem to be getting a bit nervous there, Jasper. Are you nervous? What you got to be nervous about?"

"Two strangers who haven't introduced themselves accusing me of crimes in my living room. Mid-terms. If what's happening to me is going to get me killed. Weather or not I'm..."

"Jasper" the woman interrupted to his great relief, otherwise he might have gone on forever "I'm just going to need to take a blood sample and then we'll be on our way, ok? I'm sure you haven't done anything illegal"

Something about this didn't sit right with Jasper. Why were they obviously playing good cop/bad cop? If they were cops, why hadn't they shown any identification? And why hadn't they introduced themselves?

"Who are you, the police?" he asked, taking a step back as the unknown man stood up.

"We're a special kind of police" The man looked genuinely threatening now, with his superior height and clothes that fit snuggly around broad shoulders.

"Show me a badge or something"

"You don't need to see that"

"I do, I know my rights. I should see a badge"

"We just need to take a little blood, Jasper, nothing to get riled up about" the woman smiled, motioning him to come sit next to her as she lifted a medicine bag up on the table.

"We just need to check your blood to make sure that the people who accused you of buying from Maximoff are wrong"

" _Lying_ "

"Yes, I'm sure they are lying"

" _Lying_. Why blood? Why not saliva?"

"This is more effective"

" _Lying_ "

"Jasper…" his mother urged but he just stared at the two unnamed cops who were not cops. For a moment he just stood there, his eyes locked with the tall man, dumbstruck like a deer in headlights.

"Don't do it, kid" the man said "It's gonna be a lot worse if you run"

" _Lying_ " Jasper whispered and spun around, heading for the door.

He could hear cursing behind him and furniture tumbling over as the man started after him.

* * *

Jasper had been running from bullies all his life and it had made him fast. He was out the door and out of the yard in seconds, but he could hear the man following close behind. Jasper ducked through the bushes into the neighbor's lawn, cutting across it and heading through a hole in the fence on the other side. The man had been taller and more athletic looking than him, Jasper realized wasn't going to be able to outrun him. He would get caught. As Jasper rounded the street corner he could hear the man's footsteps close behind and then he hit something that wrapped itself around him and suddenly there was no other sound but the deafening howling of wind. Jasper was sure he'd been shot, or killed, or something worse. He felt like he was being dragged through himself while the world crumbled beneath him and he was unable to open his eyes. Then it stopped and he fell to his hands and knees on a gravel road in a place that smelled like wet maple leaves.

"You gonna puke? Don't worry, that happens"

The voice was familiar but Jasper was too disoriented to be able to place it. This wasn't his street. This was somewhere very, very far from his street.

"I kinda need to head back and catch some shady dudes. You gonna be ok? Yeah you're gonna be ok!"

"Please" Jasper managed to wrangle the word from his air-deprived lungs "What…?"

"Happened? I kinda saved you from that seriously scary-looking dude. And I need to go get him before he get's away. So I'm kinda in a rush here"

"Dangerous" Jasper managed to say "Keep. Away"

"Nah, don't worry, they can't catch me. Back in a jiff! Don't get kidnapped!"

"Peter, wait" Jasper called weakly but when he managed to turn around there was no one there.

Shaken and confused he tried to get his bearings. Slowly he turned his body until he was sitting on the road, legs spread out before him. From a distance he probably looked like someone's dropped ragdoll on the ground. He realized he was sitting at the driveway of a large, rather spooky-looking house, staring up at multiple dark and unwashed windows. The sun was setting and he could smell the ocean ever so faintly.

"I'm dead" he said quietly and was comforted by the immediate " _Lying_ " that followed the statement.

"I'm going crazy. _Lying_. Oh, good. Not that either then"

He got up unsteadily and made his wobbly way to the staircase leading up to the front door, dropping down hard on it's first step as if he had just run a marathon. He leaned back and watched as the darkening shadows fell across the road, too tired and confused to care what came next.

He didn't notice Peter coming back, slightly sliding on his feet as he came to a full stop in front of the staircase.

"Man, those guys has to be some sort of freaking NINJAS! I looked EVERYWHERE but they're just GONE!" Peter huffed and sat down next to Jasper, opening a beer that seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

"How fast are you?" Jasper asked sluggishly and Peter grinned at him in reply.

"Insanely fast"

"You carried me here?"

"Yup! Want some?"

"No thank you, I'm not old enough to drink"

"Suit yourself"

"Are you a mutant?"

"Sure seems like it"

"Do you sell drugs?"

"Ha! No. My mom and my sister would take turns killing me if I did something like that"

"I'm a mutant too"

"Yeah, I kinda figured because of the hair. Is like all your hair blue? No wait don't answer I realized I don't want to know. But ok seriously is everything blue? No wait don't answer!"

"What's happening?"

"Some shady assholes seem to be trying to find mutant kids. Don't know why but they're like really keen on getting our blood. Maybe they're the minions of some vampire with really specific taste or something. They targeted you after they got to me"

"Oh"

"Yeah"

"Are vampires a thing too?"

"Donno. But hey yeah why not right? With all the other crazy shit going on. You okay? You sound like people on Star Trek do when they're obviously being mind-controlled"

"I'm fine. _Lying_. Alright, I'm not. I kinda feel like I'm not even here, that this isn't happening to me"

"Totally is though"

"I know. By the way, where are we?"

"Salem"

"I meant what's this house?"

"Oh, it's the professor's mansion. Used to be some sort of mutant boarding school or whatever but then Xavier went all mopey because of the war and shut it down or something. Guess he's kind of a hippie. So now it's just him and a blue doctor dude that lives here"

Jasper was expecting to hear that other voice call Peter a liar, but it didn't. It was oddly calming for some reason. The incredible weirdness of the last… how long had it been? An hour? Jasper turned to ask Peter but the space that has been occupied by the teen was empty.

"Well, that's not annoying. _Lying_ "

* * *

"ARGH! You have to stop doing that or I'm going to..." there was no time for Hank to finish reacting to Peter appearing in the back seat of the car mid-drive since the kid cut him off "Got anything on the other dudes?"

The question was directed at Xavier, who was staring blankly at the road, his mind reaching out, scanning the vicinity as they passed through it.

"Nothing" he sighted after a couple of seconds that felt like ages to Peter "They are very skilled at hiding both their minds and their bodies, it would seem"

"Want me to take another sweep around, like, the state of New York?"

"No thank you, Peter. I think this has been enough for one evening, and we are not returning empty handed. We still have the one you apprehended"

"We do? Where?" the teen looked around the car with the speed of a cartoon bunny, as if he expected to find the man underneath the seats.

"In the trunk" Hank smiled a slightly animalistic smile in the rear view mirror.

"How is our guest?" Xavier leaned back, seating himself more comfortably.

"Pretty good, I guess" Peter shrugged "A bit shaken, maybe. Want me to take him home since the scary mutantnappers is no where to be found?"

"Better not" Xavier shared a look with Hank that seemed too old for the professor's face "I… briefly touched the mind of his parents when I looked for the people that came for their son. For now I think it's for the best if he is not returned to their custody"

"Oh" Hank and Peter said in unison, but with different realizations.

They sat in what was for Peter the equivalent of an enormously long silence as the landscape slowly floated by outside the car windows. Now and then there was some soft "thump" sounds as the body in the trunk rolled about when Hank hit a speedbump. It was oddly calming.

"You're still in the car?" Xaviers voice broke the relative silence.

"Yeah, you haven't told me to go home or get lost yet"

"Would there be any point to it?"

Peter shrugged faster than any of the other men in the car could see, but the sound of his leather jacket creaking sufficed as a reply.

"They took your blood Peter. They came after you. I feel it's only fair that you're involved in this part as well, whatever it might turn into. It concerns you as much as any of us. More even. I trust you can handle whatever comes without making hasty or foolish decisions" The professor locked eyes with the young man in the rear-view mirror "Please don't let my trust be misplaced"

"I'll do my best"

"That's all I ask"

"Go let that kid into the house before he catches a cold. Me and Hank will be there shortly"

Xavier rather clumsily tossed Peter a set of keys that he fished out of his pockets. Peter caught them with ease mid air and the professor took a mental note that the young man had actually waited for him to toss them, instead of just snatching them out of his hand as soon as Xavier's intention was clear.

"You know I don't really need keys, right?"

"I'm well aware. Use the keys"

"Alright, you're the boss!"

"Don't touch any of my stuff!" Hank shouted at the empty backseat.

"You realize that Peter's naturally rebellious disposition will implore him to touch EVERYTHING if he heard you?" the professor smiled.

Hank looked over at his friend and a realization dawned on him.

"You like the kid"

"He's a pain in the ass, arrogant and has no sense of consequence" the professor scoffed "But I've also come to believe that beneath all that, he's a good kid"

"Yeah, I kinda got that too."

There was a moment of silence only interrupted by the engine-noise and small thumping sounds from the body in the trunk until Xavier finally added

"Still bloody annoying though"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear, Jaspers powers doesn't understand sarcasm. He's in teen-hell.


	6. The Company We Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik waits up for the Professor and tries really hard to conceal it. Also Peter cleans a room and there's a lot of tea being had.

* * *

Peter found Jasper sitting on the stairs of the mansion, not quite where he'd left him but not very far from it.

"Still here?" he greeted as he sat down next to the startled teen.

"I'm never going to get used to that."

"If you think this is creepy you should see what my sister can do. Come on. Let's get inside."

Peter moved to unlock the front door, only to find it open.

"Shit" he mumbled "Did you see anyone come in?"

"No.

"Fuck. Ok. Well, we left in a hurry, so we probably just forgot to lock the door."

" _Lying_ " Jasper blushed as the other voice blurted out the accusation "Sorry, I can't help it."

"No no, wait, this is actually useful. There's someone in the house!" Both teens waited for Jaspers second voice to assure them there was not, however it didn't.

"Right. Worth a try. I'll take a look. Stay here" Peter disappeared and only the draft pulling at the open door showed which way he'd gone. A breath later he was back, appearing way too close to Jaspers face.

"But hey good news for you, your powers doesn't completely suck!"

Then he was gone again.

* * *

"Oh, you're still here" Peter appeared on the other side of the table from where Erik was having a nice cup of tea. Magneto didn't even flinch when the kid materialized seemingly out of thin air.

"Where else would I be?" his voice was carefully disinterested as he flipped through the pages of a day-old newspaper.

"Literary anywhere else? Like, really, weren't you supposed to investigate some base or something? Or build one, super-villain style?"

"I am no super-villain, child. I merely fight..."

"Tell that to the six'oclock news. Also you DO wear a cape. That screams either supervillian or Las Vegas, and nothing about you feels Vegas. I made that joke already, didn't I? Yeah, yeah I did. I should try to be more creative with my cape-jokes. Wait, are you waiting up?" Eriks head snapped up as Peter darted closer, realization dawning on the teens face. "You are! You're waiting up!"

"I am most certainly not!"

"Yes you are, this is what my mom always does when she's pretending not to!" Peter started to rapidly point out pieces of evidence littered around Eriks person "Old paper so you'll seem busy, casually disinterested in conversation, calming tea for the nerves. You're waiting for the professor to come home in one piece!"

"I am simply having tea and reading a paper!" Somehow the anger in his voice and the sudden rattle of agitated silverware didn't help Eriks case, nor did Peters broad smile help his rapidly darkening mood.

"Hey man, it's cool! I'd be worried too if it was my… whatever you guys are. Pals? Star crossed but unhappy lovers always parted by fate? Brothers' in arms?" Erik slammed his fist into the table and at the same time everything with any metal in the kitchen echoed his frustration.

"Enough!"

"Alright, alright, don't throw a toaster at me. Oh! We have a guest who thinks some seriously shady people might have broken into the house. And well he's not fully wrong, you're not really straight edge. I'm gonna go get him, try not to be super-scary ok? He's had kind of a rough day"

As the door swung shut seemingly after no-one Erik had to stop himself from asking the now empty room how Charles was doing. The master of magnetism spend the blissfully quiet minute collecting himself. Straightening his posture he turned as the teen entered the room again, but now with another young mutant in tow.

Jasper froze at the sight of Magneto. He knew him instantly from the covers of newspapers and the fear in television-reporters eyes as they spoke his name. None of what he'd seen through the lenses of grainy cameras could do his presence justice. Even at the impossibly large kitchen table he seemed the biggest thing in the room.

"Hello." said the man who was deemed one of the most dangerous people on Earth "Peter informs me you have had quite the night. Why don't you sit? There's tea, if you'd like."

Jasper had never heard his normal speaking voice and it was surprisingly friendly, even if there was a constant steel edge to his entire persona. Sensing the young man's hesitation, Erik offered a smile.

"You have nothing to fear here. You are among you kind."

"You're so dramatic whenever you're left to your own devices, do you know that? Everything you say has that… what's the word?" Peter zipped around the room, moving from the refrigerator to sitting on the counter-top faster than the eye could see. "Gravitas!" he exclaimed between gulps of soda "That was the word I was looking for!"

"A rather sophisticated word. I am impressed despite the fact that it took you a while to think of it" Erik used his powers to discreetly pull out a chair for Jasper while he spilled his, he admitted petty, sarcasms.

"Hey, I can talk fancy when I want to. My mom was real big on me speaking proper american. I just don't feel the same need to show off as certain others."

"I have no need to show off to you."

" _Lying_ " Jasper clasped his hand over his mouth as his shocked eyes darted to Magneto.

"Oh yeah he does that by the way. Turns out not all of us have like ... " Peter stopped himself from finishing the sentence with "cool powers". Erik thought that showed surprising maturity.

"It's quite alright" Erik made a sweeping gesture and Jasper finally hesitantly sat down "We are all different, both from one another but most notably from the humans around us. What was your name?"

"Jasper" almost as a reflex he added "Sir."

"Jasper, do not fear your gift. It makes you one of the most unique..."

"Oh, the professor is back!" Peter blurted, hearing the car before the others did and effectively cutting Erik off "And in the nick of time too! He was about to start giving you one of his recruitment speeches!"

Magneto abruptly rose from his seat and strode into the foyer, Peter already way ahead of him. Jasper stayed at the table, confused and a bit too overwhelmed by the day's event to be able to follow.

* * *

Erik met Charles in the mansions arching doorway, his step a little bit too hurried and his face just slightly too unconcerned to be convincing. The professor smiled slightly at the sight of him, so obvious in his relief.

" _Really Erik, I am quite capable of leaving the house without you fretting like this_." Charles sent the words straight into the other man's mind _"I have had to make due without you for quite sometime, after all_ " Out loud he just said "Erik"

To which Erik replied "Charles." Though mentally he said " _You never had to do anything, Charles. The decision was as much yours as mine._ "

"You guys KNOW we can totally tell that you're talking, right? Like, your faces do those little twitchy things" Peter imitated some very over-the-top facial expressions "You're not as discreet as you think you are"

Charles ignored him as he allowed Eriks powers to gently push his chair past the door and into the mansion.

"We have one of them" he told Erik, whose face instantly turned to an expression of barely contained rage. He looked past Charles to Hank who was seemingly without any effort carrying the human slung over his shoulder. As Hanks strength wasn't visible in this form the skinny doctor looked odd standing in the foyer handling a body with the same ease as he would have handled a backpack.

"And what do you plan to do with him?" Erik asked "Convince him that peace between our kinds is an ever so precious thing?"

"It _is_ , Erik, and the fact that you don't consider it to be so is why I would ask you to leave this house. However, I imagine such requests would fall on deaf ears and therefore I only ask that you respect my methods. Can you do that for me?"

"As the saying goes" Erik shrugged "Your house, your rules."

"How is our guest?" Charles directed the question at Peter, who had remained remarkably still during the conversation.

"Jasper or the shady dude I punched?" Peter didn't wait for a reply "Never mind, I have the same answer for both of them. He's ok, all things considered. So what do we do now? Good cop, bad cop? I'm pretty sure Magneto already called dibs on bad-cop. Should we divide into teams?"

"For now I believe we could all use some rest. He won't wake up for quite some time anyway. Hank, would you…?"

"Put him in the basement? Already on it." The young doctor started to move for the hidden elevator with the still-immobile body bobbing along to his movements.

"Peter, would you see about finding Jasper a room? One of the old dorms should do. Preferably one that isn't depressingly dusty." Peter made a little salute and vanished further into the mansion.

When they were alone, Charles sagged in his chair, running his hands over his face repeatedly. "I had forgotten how tiring this all was" he mumbled into his palms "Worrying. Caring like this for the young."

Erik knelt beside him, putting one familiar hand on the professor's shoulder.

"It suits you" he said softly "Not giving a shit was never your style, not really."

Charles laughed, short and sharp but genuine.

"You are making it hard for me to remember to be deeply disappointed in you, Erik."

"Likewise, my friend. Perhaps that's alright during these circumstances."

"Agreed." Charles patted the hand that still rested on his shoulder "The children are more important than our squabbles. We need to know what, or who, we're dealing with here. After we know that we can fight about what to do with the information."

"Implying that I stay?"

"I hope you will." the professors smile held more sadness than it should, but it warmed Erik's heart nonetheless.

"Then I'll stay."

"Splendid. I do need the help with Peter." Charles ran a hand through his hair, looking at the stray strands of brown curls that came loose as he did so "I think the added stress of his energy might cause me to go bald."

They both chuckled before Erik moved to wheel Charles into the kitchen to greet their other guest.

* * *

Introductions were made at the same time as more tea. Charles assured Jasper that he was safe at the school and could stay for a as long as he liked while a wast amount of utensils danced around in the air preparing the hot drinks. The young mutant found it hard to concentrate at what the professor was saying, relief, wonder and fear playing off each other like waves on a shore. He was exhausted. Peter's arrival was a welcome addition in the kitchen as he was at least something of a familiar face.

"You sure took your time." Charles commented as he pushed a cup of English tea over the table to Jasper.

"Well, I found a pretty decent room but it was all dusty so I cleaned it and made the beds, they should be all fine now. Also can I stay the night as well? Please please please? I don't want to miss whatever this is going to turn into!"

Charles hesitated for a moment before answering. "Call your mother and ask if it's alright with her."

"Are you for real, prof?" Peter complained, darting to the professor side "I'm pretty sure she hates you, you made a pretty shitty first impression. She'll never let me stay. I'm lucky if she ever let's me out of the house again."

"I fail to see the issue." Erik snorted over his steaming cup "It's not like you would have a problem leaving if you wished."

"You clearly haven't met my mom."

" _Lying_ "

Everyone turned to look at a mortified Jasper.

"Okay" Peter said, regarding Erik with the same suspicion the man was awarding him "That's weird."

"It doesn't have to be!" Jasper blurted out the words as if they were too hot to keep in his mouth "You could just have met her on the street or been in the same mall. It's quite arbitrary how my powers work _lying_ ok maybe it operates on some sort of logic that I don't understand but…"

Charles silenced him with a gesture and a smile. "It's quite alright, Jasper. We can talk more about it later. I could even try to help you with your powers, if you like"

"What do you mean help?"

"Right now they seem to trigger subconsciously" the professor mused, careful not to phrase what he was saying as a statement "Perhaps, with the right guidance and time, we could made the response less involuntary?"

"That… that would be... " Jasper couldn't even finish the sentence, and in the silence that followed Erik cleared his throat.

"I'm almost afraid to ask but what is your mother's na…"

He interrupted by Hank, who walked into the kitchen with a grim look on his face.

"He's awake" he announced.


	7. The Guessing Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter is the smartest one in the group.

* * *

Entering the room where the prisoner was kept required both the young doctor and Erik to awkwardly duck under the doorframe. The ceiling was rather low, only barely allowing the taller men to stand upright. The walls had once been white but only a faint memory of the color remained on them now, as dust and lack of upkeep had turned them into a dirty grey.

On a chair in the middle of the room the man Peter had knocked out hours earlier was coming to. He moved cautiously, testing the restraints of his bound arms and legs. He wasn't thrashing about trying to get free, which Charles thought indicated training for specifically this type of situations.

Erik gave him a look that indicated he'd noticed the same thing.

Upon entering the room Charles had asked everyone to attempt to be still and quiet, making a point to look at Peter when he said the first word and Erik with the other. The fugitive had argued, but not out loud.

" _Remember, my way_." Charles sent the thought and a meaning glare in Eriks direction before he wheeled himself closer to the blindfolded man who currently resided in his basement.

The little cellar room was rather crowded, as everyone except Jasper had insisted on coming for the big interrogation. As the man sensed their presence he stilled, waiting for them to make the first move. Charles put two fingers on the side of his temple and prepared to launch into the man's mind. Telepathic courtesy wasn't something he would award someone who more or less attacked mutant children. However, to his great surprise, he wasn't met with instant access to the mans thoughts. Instead, he found himself looking out over a vast, calm sea that stretched uninterrupted from horizon to horizon. No matter how he tried to move around it, or past it, he was stuck in the ocean. A couple of minutes passed in uncomfortable silence as everyone in the room currently not blindfolded watched as the professor struggled with the mental image.

"I am afraid that won't work." the mans voice was so staggeringly normal with only the slightest hint of a Midwestern accent.

"You've had training." Charles could not fully mask the annoyance he felt "I must say that is a rather unforeseen inconvenience."

"My apologies, sir."

"We'll be right back." The professor wheeled himself out of the room and motioned for the others to follow.

As they were safely out of earshot from the room Charles turned sharply to Erik and hissed "Don't even dare make suggestions!"

"I was only going to point out that the easy way seems to have gone out the window." The taller man was the epiphany of mock-innocence.

"What happened in there?" Hank asked, more concerned for the professor than actually worried about the sudden roadblock in their interrogation "Where you not able to… perform?" Charles felt his cheeks flush at the very suggestive choice of words Hank had accidentally used. Instinctively his eyes darted to Erik who made a show of not looking like he'd noticed.

"Don't worry about it Prof, it happens to us all sometimes! Or, well, I don't know it's never happened to me but I'm not like old like you guys." Peter's way of trying to help was per usual thoroughly unhelpful. Hank attempted to swat him to make the point but the teen easily dodged it.

"What? You guys are way older than me! Don't hate on the facts, science guy!"

"Quiet, please Peter." A massive headache was forming right behind the professor's eyes and he didn't want to have to deal with that and a sense of failure "He had training, Hank. He knew how to keep me out."

"People can train for that?" Hanks tone was perhaps more self-serving than he'd intended.

"So it would seem." Charles gave Erik a sour look "And yet your solution is to wear a custom-painted bucket."

To his credit the master of magnetism recognized that Charles irritation wasn't really about him and therefore didn't reply. He did however press his lips into a thin line of disapproval.

"So okay fine you can't do your head-things, but what's stopping us from just you know talking to the guy?" Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to regain some sort of control over his wounded ego as Peter looked at him expectantly.

"That seems to be the only viable option left to us"

"Unless…"

"Erik, whatever you're going to suggest the answer is no."

"Yeah well talking is a pretty standard option. Most people make due with just mouth-words."

"Some a bit more excessively than others." Hank muttered, annoyed with how completely Peter seemed to misread the mood of their small gathering.

"Well someone has to fill all the awkward silences around you guys!" Peter was quiet for three seconds before making an affirmative gesture as if he had proven a point "See? Soooo awkward!"

"Someone who has training shielding their minds won't give straightforward answers." Erik pointed out unhelpfully "Not without some convincing."

"Why do I feel like a large part of my thirties have been spent repeating myself to you?" Charles snapped "Erik, no!"

"How many times will you let others suffer for your ideals, Charles?" All patience had been drained from Erik and he was once again the imposing Magneto "We agreed that the well-being of our children was the most important thing right now."

"We also agreed not to argue until we had what we needed to form an opinion of the situation!" Charles leaned heavy on his cultivated accent, as he always did when he got angry.

"Guys..." Hanks cautious interruption fell on deaf ears.

"And now we find ourselves not being able to extort said information. So I say we need to reassess our approach."

"So directly your only viable solution is to threaten violence?"

"Guys!"

"What?" they both exclaimed in unison, two pairs of furious eyes snapping to the young Doctor who was craning his neck to look around the empty corridor.

"Did either of you see where Peter went?"

"Oh for Christ…"

* * *

"Hey, so, quick question" Peter started asking almost immediately after he left the quarreling group and ran the length of the hallway down to where the prisoner was being kept "Who do you work for?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that information." the man replied after overcoming his initial startle at the teens voice so close to his ear when no-one had been there a split second earlier.

"Dude, you're a real cheese weasel. I hope you know that."

"I have no idea what that means." the man replied to a once-again empty room.

* * *

Jasper fell off his chair when Peter appeared on the one next to him. The speedster caught him easily and sat him back up.

"Dude you're like so clumsy. I've only known you for like what, two days, and you keep falling over."

"Well you keep..."

"No time!" Peter interrupted and then suddenly downed a glass of water he hadn't been holding when he started talking "This is going to be very tedious and super annoying so let's just try to get it over with as fast as possible."

Slamming the glass down on the counter-top Peter started to fire words so rapidly in Jaspers direction that he had a hard time making them out of the blur of sound. His other voice didn't seem to have the same inhibitions and replied faster than Jasper had thought possible.

"Thetideupmaninthebasementworksforacriminalorganisation"

" _Lying._ "

"Thetiedupmaninthebasementworksalone"

" _Lying."_

"Thetideupmaninthebasementworksforasleepercell"

" _Lying._ "

"Thetideupmaninthebasementworksforthegoverment"

Jasper drew a s harp breath to replace the air his other voice had used to correct Peter.

"Really? Government? The man in the basement works for the government! Not lying about that? Ok, thanks Jaz, you've been great!"

"Wait, what are you…"

But once again Peter was already gone.

* * *

"...sake" Charles finished, as Peter appeared right next to him.

"Hey so that guy works for the government and we can probably find out a lot more by playing the world's most tedious rounds of 20 questions if that would work for the both of you?" Peter looked between Charles and Erik like he was watching an intense ping-pong match even though neither of the other men had moved or spoken. "Wow, I am sensing a lot of tension here. Do you guys want to be alone? Should we leave? Hank, we should leave."

"What?"

"Slow down"

"I knew it"

"No, you didn't Erik, do shut up."

"You got him talking?" Hank was the first one to catch up on what Peter had actually said.

"Nope, he only said he couldn't tell me who he worked for." Peter marveled for a bit at their completely perplexed expression as they all failed to follow his rapid train of thought. "Um, you guys do remember the walking lie-detector upstairs? I just made a bunch of statements at him until he stopped calling me a liar." Peter shrugged "Figured that must be the truth. Unless he's broken. He does topple over a lot."

"Peter." the professor made a point of speaking slowly to get the young man's attention "That is brilliant."

"Yeah it's actually super-weird none of you guys thought about it. I mean you're supposed to be smart."

"Actually" Hank pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose "Since your mutation seems to extend to all parts of your physiology it's only natural that your neurons should fire much faster than ours, meaning that while we would all eventually reach the same conclusion you simply do it much, much faster."

"Uh-hu. All I hear are veeeeery dragged out excuses. Maybe I'm just smarter than you?"

Hank scoffed at the notion. "I was going to say your mutation is fascinating from a scientific standpoint, but now I won't"

"Wow I'm devastated, Blue"

"You'll live"

The smile the two young men shared was interrupted by Erik, who sharply said "It won't be enough. Whatever information we can extract by using Jesper…"

"Jasper" Peter corrected.

"...Won't be enough" He glared down at Charles, who glared back equally defiant.

"It will be a start" the professor's voice matched Eriks stern tone "And that might be all we need."

"What if it's not?"

"Then we have to come up with something new." When he looked like he might argue further Charles cut him off with something that sounded like a mix between an order and a plea "You promised, Erik."

Erik made a sound of dissatisfied acknowledgement but didn't speak. Lips pressed into a thin line and icy-blue eyes burning, he followed the group as they moved to once again find Jasper.

* * *

It took almost two hours until they all ran out of questions to ask and by then the professor was worried about Jasper's well-being. Though he had been eager to help he was also so obviously not comfortable with his mutation and intentionally using it at length was jarring for the teen. The professor felt an odd spark of affection for Peter as the silver haired young man tried to do his best to ease the other teen into their task. He would speak slower than he needed and was very attentive to when Jasper needed a break, presenting him with a re-filled glass of water seconds before even Jasper knew he needed it. Most notably though Peter told Erik to shut the hell up when he was pressing the other teen too hard, earning himself such a pompously presented scorn from the master of magnetism that Charles almost giggled in Eriks his face.

Hank had been taking notes to make sure they kept track of questions asked and which answers wasn't met with a "lying". Quickly reading through his own neat handwriting he was summarizing to the small gathering in the kitchen.

"Alright, so we know he's not CIA, FBI or the department of defense. He's with a secret branch of the government..."

" _Lying._ " While Jaspers second voice didn't seem to have been affected by the near constant talking, his normal speaking voice sounded croaked "It can't be fully secret because someone knows about it"

"Alright, he works for a government agency that is secret to the general public." Hank amended his statement and looked at Jasper, who nodded when the other voice didn't protest. "Other then that, we know he works with a team that is larger than 30 people but less than 100, that they know about mutants..."

"As does most of the world's population" Charles filled in and gave Erik a look that he promptly ignored.

"Yes, but they know that we're a different species." Hank continued "And they have a scientific interest in us. They are not hunting mutants, but they are surveying those who they believe to be mutant. They intention is not hostile."

"That right there is a very important part of information, with it we might try to… speak your mind instead of rolling you eyes at me, Erik." The tiring process of making very little progress has not lightened the mood between the professor and Magneto.

"Just because they're not hostile now doesn't mean they'll never be, Charles" Erik made a point of looking at Jasper, who remained quiet, allowing his point to be made by the teens silence.

"There's no guarantees for anything in life, Erik."

" _Lying._ "

"Well, I guess everyone dies, so that's pretty much guaranteed." Hank tried, giving Jasper what he hoped was an encouraging smile. With the beast so close to the surface he had to struggle not to look accidentally predatory.

"My point stands, Charles. It's better we make an example of him now than to risk…"

" _Lying._ "

"I didn't even finish"

"You said enough, Erik." There was defeat in Charles voice, a disappointment in his eyes so deep it actually drained the anger from Erik. A pang of guilt passed through him as he looked at the professor, so tired and suddenly small in his chair.

" _I'm sorry, Charles._ " he taught in the general direction of the telepath.

" _I know_ " came the mental reply " _Somehow it makes it all worse._ "

"Could we please focus on the government agent we kidnapped and leave…" Hank made an uncertain gesture towards Erik and Charles "... for later? I don't know about you but I would really like to get this over with so I can go to bed."

"Of course, you're right, Hank." the professor straightened in his chair, refocusing "Any other information we managed to gather?"

"That's pretty much it"

"It's not a lot" Charles admitted "But it's something. You did a very good job, Jasper."

"You have a gift." Erik agreed and Jasper shrank away under the weight of the compliments.

"Thanks." he mumbled.

"Maybe we could try for like a secret code or something? Or like the coordinates of their base?" Peter suggested.

"That won't work. Too many variables to guess them." Hank mumbled into his notes and while he was talking he suddenly wavered in his chair as he was rather forcefully struck with a realization.

"Letters!" he said, and then again, louder "Letters! There are only so many letters and most government agencies use acronyms!"

"Oh!" Peter was the first one to catch up, and then a rather disappointed "oh" from Jasper followed.

"You want us to just randomly say letters until we find the correct ones."

"I know it's tedious and tiring for you Jasper, but…"

"It's okay." the teen had a deep drink of water before turning to Peter "Go ahead."

"ThefirstletterofthegovermentagencytheguyinthebasementworksforsacronymeisA"

" _Lying._ "

"I'll make some more tea" Erik muttered to Charles.

"That would be lovely." the professor agreed.

* * *

Half a pot of tea later they were all huddling around Hanks notes, looking over the final letters that had been declared truth by Jasper.

"Well, who ever came up with that is really pretentious." Peter commented "Have either of you guys ever heard off these people?"

The question was directed at the professor and Erik, who both shook their heads.

"Guess we have to go ask politely then."

They left an exhausted Jasper in the kitchen together with the note where all but six letters where crossed over.

Together they spelled S.H.I.E.L.D.


	8. Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get information, and Charles and Erik talk into the night.

* * *

"Let us try this again, shall we?" Charles was all aristocratic pleasantry as he came to a stop in front of the still-hooded prisoner. The telepath reached out and let one hand slide underneath the damp fabric, finding the man's temple beneath a mess of sweat-drenched hair. The man tried to flinch away from the touch but Hank effortlessly held his head in place so his fidgeting wouldn't disturb the professor. The telepath once again launched himself into the mind of the man and found himself staring over the same ocean as before. This time Charles pushed on, out across the water, his entire effort focused on one word: SHIELD. The man gasped as the ocean started to stir and sway, random bits of memories and insignias flashing by on it's now boiling surface. With something tangible to search for it was much easier for Charles to break the barriers in place and he parted the waters, casually strolling between the towering waves as memories rapidly appeared and disappeared on them like giant cinema screens.

_"... the CIA…"_

_"Fuck the CIA."_

_"Undersecretary Pierce, we must ask you to..."_

_"They fucking botched Washington. We need more information…"_

A dark office with heavy wooden panels was replaced by a briefing room populated with women and men in dark suits.

_"...a highly sensitive field mission. Please remember that these are civilians we are dealing with. Cause minimal disruptions to their daily life. No one is to be hurt."_

_"But Director Carter, what if…"_

_"No what if's, agent. No one will be harmed. That is a direct order."_

_"Yes, ma'm."_

_"Morales, Jackson, Stevensson, you three cover upstate New York..."_

The image bled away and was replaced by the interior of a van. As a man climbed in the back Charles saw a flash of a familiar suburban neighborhood though the sliding door.

_"That kid's definitely one of them." The man who climbed in the car said "His parents seemed real keen on giving him up to someone with a badge."_

_"Do we know what he does?" A woman with a low-cut top asked._

_"Nothing destructive as far as we can tell." It was the man whose head Charles was invading who was speaking._

_"Alright, me and Agent Morales will handle this. Keep the car running."_

Some time passed in the blink of an eye, then the woman jumped into the car in a hurry, throwing a medicine bag in the backseat seemingly without concern for the delicate vials inside.

_"Drive!"_

_"What happe…"_

_"Kid ran, just drive!"_

_Another time jump placed Charles inside a run-down apartment building._

_"We have to call it in."_

_"No, we don't."_

_"The kid vanished!"_

_"Maybe that's a thing he does."_

_"Or maybe Jackson did something really fucking stupid and hurt... "_

_"We've got a job to do here and these people are dangerous! I don't know about you but I have family in Washington, I know what happened there."_

_"This isn't Magneto, this is some kid who've disappeared on our watch! We have to report it the director..."_

_"Quiet"_

_"What?"_

_"I just thought I felt…_ " The woman named Morales looked out the window, at the bar right across the parking lot _"I'll be right back. Wait here."_

Minutes passed in a second and then Peter was in the room, a flash of silver light against the suddenly busted door. Splinters was still soaring through the air as the agent took the shot.

 _"Dumb move, dingus."_ said a voice right behind him and the loud bang that ended the memory wasn't from another gunshot, but from his own head hitting the cheap linoleum floor.

* * *

The man called Stevensson sagged in his seat, breathing heavily as the telepath broke contact. It felt like he was dropped back into himself from someplace high above and he landed in his flesh with the friction of an airplane touching ground. It rattled his entire person, a turbulence of memories and thoughts before he came fully into himself. 

"Rather jarring, I know." the professor's voice was unusually cold "You'll forgive me for not taking the extra measures to make this experience comfortable for you."

"How… did you…"

"It doesn't matter, Stevensson. There is only one question left for you to answer, and if you don't I will drag the information out of you anyway." Charles didn't miss the appreciative look on Erik's face when he resorted to threats. "I would however rather avoid that for both our sake, so please be smart about this. What do you need to report this to your Director?"

"What?"

"What do you need…" the professor was emphasizing each meticulously pronounced word "to report everything, including your kidnapping, to your Director?"

The man seemed hesitant to answer, unsure of the consequences. However, his mental barrier had been more or less entirely broken, he would not be able to put up much of a fight should he choose to refuse.

"Why do you want me to…"

"What. Do you. Need."

"A phone. Just any phone"

"Excellent. Peter, would you..." A phone with an impressively stretched cord appeared in the professor's lap, the receiver already off the hook "Thank you. Now, outside, all of you."

Telepathically he added to all of them "I'll rather not for him to he see your faces".

Erik gave Charles a look that indicated he disagreed with whatever he was about to do, but he didn't argue. Neither did Peter, amazingly. Hank lingered a bit longer than needed but eventually ducked under the low door frame and disappeared out of sight.

Charles removed the man's hood, revealing a mess of black hair and a slightly flushed hairless face. Stevenson watched him warily as he wheeled around the chair to be able to unite one of the man's hands.

"I literary know what you're thinking, and even if you could overpower me you have no way of getting passed what's outside that door." The professor started pulling at the ropes Hank has tied with considerable force "Please believe me when I tell you I would like this to end peacefully. Now, call it in."

"What do you want me to…"

"Just whatever you would when you report incidents such as these. I'm sure there is a protocol for it."

Stevensson started to slowly punch in numbers that Charles made a show of not looking at. Instead he leaned back in his chair and tried to muster an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. After four dial tones someone picked up at the other end.

"Big Rico's Pizza, may I take your order?"

"Um, yeah, could I have a number 49 and one 11, please. With extra cheese on both." Stevensson eyed the professor, who was sitting close enough to hear every word of the conversation.

"Absolutely. Express delivery in 10!"

"Thank you" Then he hung up.

"I should have probably informed you that all phone lines in this building are completely untraceable." the professor smiled "CIA technology, slightly modified by a resident genius. So if you just called for backup…" He was interrupted by a sharp _BRIING_ as the phone rang.

"We have better tech than the CIA, sir."

* * *

 _"_ _Erik, would you be so kind as to head outside and watch for possible helicopters? Thank you!"_

"What did you do?" Erik said out loud to Hank and Peter, who exchanged confused looks as the master of magnetism stomped down the corridor towards the elevator.

* * *

"Agent Stevensson" the British accent on the other end of the phone sounded very annoyed "What the hell is going on? Your partners reported you MIA a couple of hours ago."

"We.. ran into some problems, Director. The subject we were surveying made our cover and fled. Jackson pursued but the subject vanished, ma'm."

"Minimal disruptions, Agent Stevensson! Was I unclear?"

"No, ma'am"

"Would you call a missing kid minimal, Agent?"

"I would not ma'am. I would have attempted to call in sooner, but I have been somewhat… kidnapped."

"Brilliant. And they're just letting you use the phone, are they?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Why?"

"I would suspect they want to talk to you." he shot Charles a glance who nodded.

"Who are they?" the woman asked.

"My name is Professor Charles Xavier, if that rings a bell" Charles told Stevenson, who relayed the message. There was nothing but silence from the phone for a couple of seconds, then: "Put him on."

"Director Carter" Charles greeted as he took the phone from Stevensson "I believe we are in dire need of a chat."

"Release my agent, professor, and then we can talk."

"I ensure you that no harm will come to him under my roof. Do you know who I am?"

"Yes. I'm familiar with your work with the CIA."

"Then you have me at an advantage, I only know a bit about your work with SHIELD. Even so, what little I know has made me inclined to think I can trust you to be reasonable with our current predicament."

"What would you consider to be our current predicament, professor?"

"You're invading the privacy of mutant children and I have one of your agents. I would hope we could talk all of that out. Fancy a meetup?"

"I know what you can do, professor. I'm not about to put myself within the reach of your abilities"

" _Charles!_ " Eriks loudly thought warning came tinged with anger " _Helicopter_."

" _Take out any weapons Erik, but nothing else._ "

"How about this, as a sign of good faith?" Charles told the director as he was instructing his friend "We will allow your helicopter to land and we'll hand agent Stevensson over to you unharmed. Then perhaps we could talk again tomorrow?"

"And why would you do that, professor?"

"I have no wish to go against the government, Director Crater, but I won't stand by and watch mutant children get hurt. It is my hope that rather than being enemies in this, we could come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement that doesn't involve invading the privacy of american civilians."

"I'll think it over when Agent Stevensson is returned to us." Director Carter responded after a moment of contemplative silence.

"That's all I ask. Well.." he added as an afterthought "That and that your people do not fire a shot while on my grounds."

* * *

" _Erik, you should preferably not be seen. Let them land_ "

The master of magnetism stood on the front lawn, watching as the large chunk of metal came towards the house, hardly visible against the night sky.

"Whatisgoingon?" Peter appeared basically at the same time as the ens of his sentence reached Magneto "What's that? A Lynx? Looks like a Lynx."

"This is what doing things Charles way looks like." Erik replied as the helicopter prepared to touch down at the edge of the school grounds "Armed men walking right up to your doorstep."

"It's also looking like no shooting, which, you know, is good. Speaking as someone who was shot at today. ARGH!" Peter jumped back, clutching his head "It's really creepy when you do that. You should like warn people… ok, fine."

Erik felt Peter grab him but before he could protest the world lurched under his feet and he was inside the mansion, grabbing on to the railing of the large staircase to steady himself. Before he even regained his footing Peter had gotten down into the basement, untied the prisoner, carried him back out and gently strapped him into one of the seats of the helicopter before the skids even touched the ground.

* * *

Charles and Hank was met by a furious Magneto as the elevator doors were hastily thrown open, their metal-hinges protesting the rough treatment. Hank growled instinctively when he saw the look on Eriks face.

"What did you just do?" A bright-red flush was creeping up his neck as he pulled Charles chair out of the elevator "You just gave away our only..."

"Don't yell at me, you'll break my concentration."

"You're still connected to him." As understanding dawned on him, Erik couldn't help but smile.

"The last thing I need is your misguided approval. Now hush. I'm not sure for how long I can do this without Cerebro. No, Erik, before you suggest it, I can't get into it with a mental link already established."

The trio stood silently in the large hall, two pairs of eyes intently watching Charles as he attempted to hold on to the other mans consciousness for a s long as possible. Turned out that the professor's mental reach was sturdier than Eriks patience. As the time dragged on, he started to pace around Charles, which earned him a hostile glare from Hank. Erik made a sharp nod at the door to the study, indicating that they could wheel Charles in there instead of hanging around in the foyer. Hank made a dismissive face that displaced his glasses on the tip of his nose. Annoyed, Erik added an even sharper shoulder shrug to his sharp nod to convince Hank of this line of action, to which Hank replied with scrunching up his face yet again. Erik squinted at Hank, using his best intimidating mutant revolutionist-face and the young doctor proceeded by pushing up his glasses using only a very suggestive finger.

"Oh for the love of God, just wheel me in there." Charles snapped at them.

Both the other men jumped at the sudden sound of his voice. Triumphantly, Erik tugged at the metal in Charles chair and moved towards the study, a sullen Hank in tow.

* * *

Forty minutes later Charles lowered his fingers from his temple and opened his eyes with a sigh.

"Well?"

"Let's just say we have a house call to make in the morning." Charles smiled at Erik in a way that was both exhausted and excited "Also, I noticed neither of you kept an eye on Peter."

"Shit" Hank and Erik muttered in unison, simultaneously looking around for the teen.

"What?" Peter leaned back in the formerly empty chair across the professors deck "I don't need looking after, I'm not a child. Also you guys are out of milk, butter, bread, some weird green goo that was in a tube, cheese and basically everything else. Might wanna run to the store before assaulting some vague yet menacing government agency tomorrow."

"Feet of the desk." Charles scolded and Peter complied "And we're not assaulting anyone. We're simply going to have a conversation."

"Uh-huh. My mom and her ex used to have 'conversations', and those usually ended with dishes flying across the room."

The professor changed the subject. "How's our guest?"

"Exhausted." Peter shrugged.

"I think that is true for all of us. We could all do with some rest, and I could do with some peace and quiet."

With that, he ushered the rest of them out of his study and closed the door behind them. His mind was reeling from holding on to someone else's for so long. He needed some time to sort out all the different impressions, and smother a headache in whiskey.

* * *

"So, I should probably head home." Peter said from where he was perched on the kitchen counter "You going to be OK here?"

Jasper nodded, too tired to risk the potential backlash a verbal confirmation might get him. If he was not going to be OK in this house, he would prefer not to know it. He had been terrified enough for one day.

"No safer place. Magneto isn't as scary as he seems. Right dude?"

"I only aim to invoke fear in those who should fear us." Erik replied from the window, where he stood watching the sky.

"So yeah, I was thinking. Not ripping that helicopter apart? That was very out of character for you."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"I'm just saying. It's kinda weird…" Erik dismissed the teens concern with an annoyed wave of his hand.

"I know what you're implying Peter but your suspicions are misplaced. I know what it feels like when Charles is inside me."

"Okay. I'm pretty sure that didn't come out the way you intended it to."

"Go home, Peter!" Erik roared and Peter held up his hands defensively.

"Yeez, what are you, my dad?" He was gone before Magneto could reply something about rather being the father of a pack of rabid dogs than the teen in question. After a moment of uncomfortable silence Jasper silently left the kitchen and managed to find the one bedroom in the gigantic mansion Peter had prepared for him.

* * *

At two AM Erik got tired of twisting and turning in one of the many dust-smelling rooms of the Xavier institute. Annoyed with himself and angry at nothing in particular he walked down the stairs to raid Charles dwindling store of expensive liquor only to find that the professor had already beaten him to it.

"Can't sleep? You should try to." the telepath greeted from the studies large sofa that he'd heaved himself into. Erik leaned against the doorframe, watching Charles sip a glass of scotch.

"You don't seem keen on following your own advice these days"

"I would if I could, Erik. The voices are hard to shake tonight." he sounded miserable and looked the part, his hair and clothes a crumpled mess "And I worry about tomorrow."

"Do I need to tell you I think you're making a mistake?" Erik invited himself into the room. He poured a drink for himself, and topped Charles of as the professor extended his glass to him.

"You don't even know what I intend to do yet."

"No, but I know you."

"Ah. And I am prone to mistakes." Charles smiled self-ironically over the rim of his glass. 

"You are prone to reckless optimism." Erik used his powers to lift the wheelchair out of the way, so he could pull one of the visitors chairs up to the sofa.

"I can't argue with that." The telepath watched him as he made himself comfortable. "However I would never call it reckless."

"You put the lives of…"

"Don't." Charles cut him off softly "Erik, I can't have this conversation. Not again. Certainly not now. We both know we sometimes do things for selfish reasons and try to justify them as being for the greater good. We're both arrogant men." he rubbed his hand over his face "We have the same flaws, only on opposite sides of the spectrum. Maybe that's why you always felt the need to leave." His voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, regretting it as he spoke but boldened by alcohol.

"You know that's not why."

"No, I don't."

"You didn't want me here Charles. Not after..." his eyes involuntarily trailed Charles motionless legs "...Cuba."

"The bullet was an accident, Erik. Leaving was intentional."

"If I had stayed, what then? You didn't want me here. You keep saying you don't blame me for what happened, but you clearly do." Anger and guilt flushed his cheeks rather than the scotch that colored Charles "You have a selective memory when it suites you."

"You don't know what I wanted." The young professor's voice was mournful, rather than angry. That defused Erik, who leaned back heavily in his chair, as if the weight of the world pressed him down into it.

"Yes I do, Charles. And I could never give it to you." He spoke quietly, privately without looking at the professor, who in turn did not look at him.

"I guess I am ever the optimist." Charles chuckled and sipped the amber liquid in his glass "Shall we attempt to discuss a topic that will not inevitably lead to a fight?"

"You need to sleep"

"I can't, not with the echoes of memories that aren't mine ringing in my head. Will you keep me company until they fade?"

"Of course." Erik smiled "The one challenge is to find something we agree on to discuss."

"Well, if I remember correctly we both think The Brandenburg concertos are widely overestimated"

Erik nodded.

"They clearly lack the finesse of the Goldberg Variations."


	9. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peggy Carter has a bad morning.

* * *

Director Peggy Carter had a terrible morning. Not only was she grumpy from the lack of sleep last night's debriefing of Agent Stevenson had caused, now she had to deal with two other agent who seemingly had ignored a direct order, while simultaneously dealing with a nasty situation related to a rogue assassin in Russia. And to top it all off, the office kitchenette had run out of any kind of stomachable tea.

"Perfect" she exclaimed sarcastically when she walked back into her office to find her secretary frozen in place "Bloody perfect. Shall I just assume he is in my office then? Brilliant. Thank you, Clara." She'd never really liked Clara, but that didn't stop her from being pissed off at the person who had incapacitated her. She drew her gun and kicked open the door of the office without spilling any of the terrible tea on her immaculate pantsuit.

"Good morning, Director Carter." The intruder greeted pleasantly.

"I am in fact not having a good morning, Professor Xavier, and I doubt you are here to improve it"

"I hope to. However…" the telepath gave her gun a disapproving look that reminded her of the one her sixth grade geography teacher would give her when she couldn't remember all the rivers of Scotland "Would you please stop pointing that horrid thing at me? I do detest looking down a barrel."

"If you had bothered to book an appointment you wouldn't have to." Peggy replied pleasantly, her high heels clicking against the floor as she strafed around his wheelchair to her desk. "If you dislike the presence of a simple gun, how do you think I feel with a man that can do something like that…" she nodded in the general direction of Clara "... breaking into my office?"

"I assure you my intentions are peaceful. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Nor I you unless you give me cause." Peggy sat down in her leather chair, gently placing the tea she had been balancing in her free hand on table.

"I won't waste both our time by inquiring how you got into this facility and I would appreciate it if you returned the courtesy by not asking us what we do. Last evening you said you wanted to talk." She kept the gun firmly pointed at him "So. Talk."

"Your organization are using rather unorthodox methods to get information from, in many cases, underage american citizens." Charles tone was gentlemanly, but his eyes cut like knives "I would kindly ask you to stop, and relinquish all the data you have stored so far."

"Or else?" Peggy arched an eyebrow as she sipped her tea.

"I did not come here to start a war, Director Carter. What I offer is not threats, but an exchange."

When the director didn't reply Charles continued "I know you are trying to understand mutation, what forms it can take, and what kind of "threat" it poses to society. You are trying to asses the situation. I can offer you insight, anonymized data about mutants and a link to our community." He leaned forward, resting one arm on her mahogany desk "You are not preparing for an invasion here, Director Carter, you are preparing for a growth spurt. There is nothing you can do to change it, all you can do is try to understand it."

"You are missing a vital part of our investigation, professor. I am not merely interested in the scientific data. If push comes to shove, we will need to be able to keep the mutant populace safe from those who would seek to hurt them. I am no stranger to the workings of prejudice and I know what kind of cruelty we are capable off in it's shadow. A chasm too deep to bridge might be evolving alongside your genes. With leaders like your Magneto emerging, fear among the human and mutant populace alike will spread within our borders."

"Magneto is a traumatized man with a misguided idealistic cause. He is not our leader, as you put it."

"Not yours, perhaps. But as it stand he is the most prominent mutant figure for the average Janes and Joes. Mutant children watch him on television and think him a saviour. You can not underestimate the power of good airtime." She said the last bit with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "SHIELD is the only organisation in the United States with experience in handling super-powered people. If there are more like your friend out there, we have to keep tabs on them to make sure they do not turn out like him."

"You mean to judge them for how they are born."

"You choose to misunderstand me, Professor. I mean to make sure they have access to a support network should they need one."

"So SHIELD is to be the after school special for children with powers? A secret government organisation that technically does not exist?"

"What option is there? Let fear and hatred seep into society until it breaks, creating hundreds more misguided idealists?"

"Let us make our own networks." Professor Xavier leaned forward, eager to convince her "Employ us. Make us part of the discussion rather than the topic."

Director Carter smiled, genuinely this time.

"You live in such a lovely world Professor. So full of promise."

"So is yours, if you permit it. You have the power to shape the outcome of this, Director Carter, and you can choose optimism."

"All my life I have been called pragmatic, and I believe it to be true." She studied the professor, everything from the bags underneath his eyes to the worn fabric of his tailored suit.

"Why are you even discussing this with me?" she asked, eyebrows drawn together "You could simply make me agree with you and have your lovely world."

"Because I do belive mutual understanding and respect is the strongest power there is. I don't want to force anyone to do anything, I want them to believe in it themselves. That is how you change the world. With conviction, not force."

"Spoken like a true Oxford alumni." the leather chair squeaked as Peggy leaned back "Well then, tell me what you propose?"

"I will personally work together with SHIELD to help you in your mission. You will have access to the anonymized data and research on mutants that my team produces. To my knowledge, it is the most extensive research in the world on the topic. You in turn will seize all monitoring of mutants that have not committed a crime that warrants it. The Xavier institute and SHIELD will work in unison to provide the best possible future for coexistence."

"You are asking me to trust your word."

"I am asking you to trust my convictions."

"I am equally uneager to fight you as you are to fight me, professor. However I can not compromise the security of this nation based on one man's convictions. I need you to agree to alert us about, and assist us with apprehending, any mutants who might pose a threat to the country. This includes Mr. Lensherr. Failing to do so will result in the immediate termination of our agreement."

"And I in turn shall expect the same courtesy, should you come upon information that outside forces might threaten my institution."

They regarded each other carefully, each measuring the other's intent. After a moment of silent contemplation, Director Carter put down her gun and sighed.

"If you would be so kind as to unfreeze my assistant, we have a mountain of tedious paperwork to draw up and no good tea to soften the blow of it."

"Thank you, Director Carter." Charles stretched his hand out over the desk and she moved to shake it.

"Let's attempt to do our very best, Professor Xavier, and hope that it is enough for both of us."

* * *

 


	10. Conclusion

Days went by before every piece of paper had been drawn up, data both transferred and destroyed, introductions made and arguments had. In the end, the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters received an official consulting status from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. For Charles it was both exhilarating and tiring. He almost dared not hope that diplomacy might win the day.

When asked Jasper had agreed to accompany the professor to all of the meetings, and after explaining his abilities to the SHIELD delegates, the teen proved to be an excellent asset to set all parties minds at ease about the intentions of the other. Jasper noticed however that the professor never spoke in asserted statements when it came to the apprehension of Magneto, but the SHIELD agents didn't seem to notice, and Jasper didn't offer the information.

* * *

When he got back from the negotiations Jasper returned home to his parents, who didn't bother to ask where he had been for the past couple of days. He stayed long enough to pack two duffel bags worth of clothes, books, and assorted earthly possessions. With the bags slung over his shoulder, he sat his parents down in the dining room and told them about Xavier's. As an answer to his father's question, he assured them that they would not need to pay any tuition and that he did get holidays off but had no intention of returning home during them. They didn't say anything to try and stop him from leaving. He found the household cat, petted it and murmured some nonsense before removing the house key from his jack pocket and placing it on a side-table. His mother caught him in the hallway. In the bright light from the staircase, her dark hair had a tinge of blue. He'd never noticed that before.

"Jasper?" Her voice was timid, more so now than he'd ever heard it.

"Yes, mom?"

"Have fun." As an afterthought, she added "I love you."

" _Lying._ " He replied, and she looked like he'd punched her. Jasper turned to open the door, but she stopped him.

"Wait. Please. I know I'm a terrible mother to you." He didn't interrupt her "The truth is that I don't understand you anymore and frankly, you scare me. You scare me so very, very much. Hopefully, in time, I can come to terms with that. But I want you to know it wasn't always a lie, that at least once…" her voice shrank away, and so did her gaze "I loved you."

Jasper swallowed hard in the absence of his other voice, trying his best to fight the tears welling up in his eyes. He nodded and left.

* * *

Peter stopped dead in the hallway of his house, not even managing a "Hello!" as he was completely dumbstruck by the red boots casually thrown into the general mess of the family's outwear. He froze as he heard footsteps coming down the staircase, every muscle in his body tense with uncertainty.

"Hi." Wanda said with carefully constructed ease "Mom and Lorna went to the store. She's so pissed at me. Mom, not Lorna. She's just Lorna."

She tried a smile but Peter could tell it was forced, he knew every twist of every muscle in her face. It was the same as his. Eyes that were identical to his own started to tear up as he still hadn't moved from the spot.

"Please don't hate me." She choked on the words, her heavy eyeliner starting to dissolve as the tears escaped. He was with her on the stairs in the blink of an eye, slamming into her with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs as he hugged her.

"Of course I don't hate you." He laughed through his own tears "But man am I pissed at you. Like, you are going to eat this forever. Whatever I do from now on I can always be like 'Well, hey, at least I didn't fucking leave you and alter reality so I couldn't be found for six fucking months, leaving only a note, like a certain other twin'!" He knew he spoke too fast for her to hear everything but he didn't care. "I'm terrible at holding grudges though. I'm going to work on that."

"I missed you so much, Pete. Every day. I'm sorry I made you worry."

"I'm never that worried about you. You're kickass. Gotta be, to be my twin." Peter grinned. "And I totally get that you felt you had to get away from… well, school and all the shit that happened." They sat down together on the staircase, Wanda smudging her makeup with the sleeve of her shirt. "What I don't get is why you felt you had to get away from me?"

"I don't know. I just… all this shit." She gestured with her hands and eerie red light apparitions followed them mid-air "I just needed some time to figure it out. Let it be a part of me. And I guess I needed some distance to do that, because otherwise we're almost always us, you know? And you're so comfortable with your powers. They're so very you." She patted his arm and smiled "I just needed for mine to be me."

"I can't say it makes sense to me, but it does to you, and that's what matters." Peter smiled back at her "I'm still pissed though. I will totally hide all your stuff for the rest of the year."

"You can have all my desserts for six months."

"Sis, you're delusional if you think you're getting dessert for the rest of your life."

"Ugh, true. Mom will totally feed me nothing but that horrible Romanian casserole."

"Good thing you have reality altering powers!" Peter beamed "By the way, where did you go?"

"I joined a Wiccan cult."

"No way."

"Totally true."

"So you're like a witch now?"

"Totally. Like, the red witch or something."

"Ha, you're such a hippie."

"Shut up, you're a hippie!"

"Oh, speaking of hippies. The craziest shit happened! So, I was arrested, and they drew some of my blood, and I thought right, that seems weird, so I called that professor dude I told you about, and.."

When Magda came home with arms full of groceries and Lorna she yelled at the twins in turn for vanishing from the house at all hours of the day, giving Peter some slack as he had only been gone a day. She continued to curse, yell and dictate new house rules in a wild mix of languages while she made lasagna, Wanda's favorite. Everyone got double desserts, but Peter still ate all of Wandas.

* * *

Hank felt rejuvenated as he hung up the phone after a rather interesting conversation with a young scientist over at SHIELD. It was refreshing to be able to discuss his findings and theories with someone who understood genetics on a biological level. Even though the professor could offer interesting viewpoints, his education was more theoretical than practical.

Whistling a merry tune he almost missed the doorbell chiming. Hurrying to cover the distance to the lobby before whoever it was got bored he janked open the door in a huff.

"Yes?" he said to the infinitely bored-looking delivery woman standing outside.

"Delivery." she said with all the implications that she thought he was an idiot "Sign please." She handed him a heavy package after he did as he was asked and left with a very insincere "Have a nice day, sir."

The package had no intended recipient other than the house address, so Hank took to opening it after first carefully smelling it to make sure it didn't contain any kind of chemicals. He pulled out a glossy, newly printed pamphlet, with a bright photo of the school in summer.

"Welcome to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters" it read, and underneath it "Mutatis Mutandis".

"I guess these halls won't be all that quiet for much longer." Hank said to the empty lobby, grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

Relaxing on the front lawn after what felt like an endless day of finishing up paperwork Charles felt Eriks presence before he heard the familiar angry footsteps coming towards him across the gravel. Charles closed his eyes against the late autumn sun and breathed in the cool air that had started to creep in over the school grounds, waiting for Eriks anger to wash over him like a stormcloud. The tall man stopped next to Charles wheelchair, looking out over the massive green field and the maple trees cluttering it. In the distance the outline of the huge satellite disk was visible against the setting sun.

"Your are a fool to strike a deal with those people, Charles." He stated, his voice calmer than the professor had thought it would be. "You can't trust their word. They are part of a government agency, and governments change. They get scared. They can kill."

"I'm not saying a time might not come when we will have to fight for this place. For our people" Charles put a heavy emphasis on the word our "But when that happens I want to know I did everything in my power to stop it. Violence can't be the answer, Erik. It just can't. I know you disagree but please, just this once, don't say it."

"Idealism kills people Charles, sometimes more effectively than war."

"Then we should strive to be better idealists."

"Perhaps that's enough. Maybe you can be good enough for the both of us."

"Maybe I won't have to." The professor shook his head mournfully "There is so much potential to you, Erik. I wish you would see yourself as I see you."

"How do you see me, Charles?" The words sounded rougher than Erik intended, his voice strained with the emotions he never seemed to be able to contain around the telepath.

Charles looked up at him and opened his arms, hands just far apart to be inviting.

"If you truly want to know," he said, voice low "I'll show you."

After a moment's hesitation Erik knelt by Charles chair, mindful of any eyes that might peer at them from the large windows at the mansion. As the telepath leaned forward, he half-expected Charles to kiss him. Instead, he placed his hands gently on the sides of Eriks head, fingers lightly stroking the outline of his temple and jaw.

Then the world spun around and suddenly he was looking at his own face from Charles perspective. He felt, in that moment, what Charles felt. An intense sense of hope, drenched with affection and above all longing for the man whose face he held to stay with him this time. Charles threw them further back, guided Erik through his memories to the first days at the mansion. Erik saw himself, standing tall and strong as darkened silhouette against the blue summer sky. He was smiling about something happening down on the lawn, turning to Charles to share the joke. It was replaced by another image of him instructing Alex in basic combat techniques, mostly by scorn and scolding. When he'd agreed to try to teach the kids Erik had always felt as if he scared them and disappointed Charles with his rough methods, but seeing it all from Charles perspective the professor swelled with pride over the scene, thinking he was watching the future unfold before him.

"I look at you and I see family, Erik" Charles whispered, and the other man wasn't sure if he heard it in his mind or not "I see everything we could make together."

They were back in the here and now and Charles was gently easing Erik out of his own mind.

"It's too late" he clasped the hands that let go of his face in his own, holding them perhaps harder than necessary "After Washington…The deal you made... I have to go. And even if I didn't..." he chose his words carefully, his eyes holding Charles like a warm embrace "I don't believe in your vision, Charles. You live in a world much prettier than mine."

"Oh Erik," the telepath smiled sadly "I don't need you to believe in me. I just need you to hope that I'm right, and be there should I fail. I need your cynicism to my optimism. You created a world that are very dangerous for our children, I'm not blind to what your actions have brought. I hope to be able to change it, to change the world, but should push come to shove" Charles looked out over the vast school grounds, listening to the happy shouting of teenagers in the distance "... this place need to be ready to shove back."

* * *

Erik left that night. Without a word of farewell, he melted into the shadows of the treeline. Charles felt him go, leaving him for the second time at the brink of change. 

* * *

One week later, with three students enrolled, the Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters officially reopened.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who've been reading and reviewing, I've very much enjoyed working on this story, I hope you enjoyed reading it!


End file.
